


Truth has no confines

by MrsOkita



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsOkita/pseuds/MrsOkita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson is now the official captain of the Seven and he needs to rescue JB; in the middle of superstitions, rivalry, trades, and Mark Tuan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a great secret in him

Youngjae is the first to yell when they finally see land. Jackson comes out of his cabin with a leap, grinning ear to ear, adjusting the pistol held tightly on his waistband. The _Seven_ ’s flag is waving high in the sky and the sea is clean and calm like a pre announce of a good day. Jimin had said, _When the seagulls are flying and the sky is blue, the turmoil is going to have you right in its middle_. Jackson is waiting for it, because he’s surely lacking emotion ever since JB was locked away.

It’s maybe the first time that the _Seven_ is docking precisely at the port, going straight to the Island’s marine like an innocent young lover to the center of a mistress’ thighs, without knowing what to anticipate. Jackson is excited, and he holds on to the rope at the side of the ship as the crew puts down the anchor. He can see becoming closer, inch by inch, a frightened mariner whose eyes goes up to the big white _Seven_ printed on the black flag and his trembling hands finding shelter of his fear by holding the gun hanged on his holster.

Deep down, he possibly has the notion that there’s nothing he can do, alone with two other colleagues by the shore, against an entire, blood-seeking pirate ship. His luck, though, is that the _Seven_ is _not_ , actually, seeking blood this time. Or gold. Or pillage. So Jackson stays still, smiling and not giving his men any new orders, as the scared mariner runs out to call for help.

When the ship comes to a stop, the crew lowers the wooden bridge at the dock. The time that takes for Jackson to slowly walks his way to the land is the precise one for a group of another fifteen men in blue navy uniform and expensive looking pistols to come marching to meet him. Jackson’s smile widens, but it somehow flatters when he recognizes the black insignia with the four stripes that indicates the captain, but he doesn’t recognizes _the_ captain.

“Where’s Jinyoung?”, he asks, frowning in confusion.

The question could possibly be another altogether, as _Who_ are _you?_ , because that face is intimidating, somehow. The tall navy captain stares right into his eyes in a defiant manner that even resembles Jinyoung a bit, but that fits uniquely the way he composes himself in commanded silence and the distinguished red uniform mixed with all the blue around.

He has such an air of power that makes _Jackson_ feels the need to bow in salute. He doesn’t, though.

“Pirate”, the navy captain speaks, voice low and grave and not at all what Jackson expects from that handsome face, “You do know that you are docking in forbidden area and that, by the laws of the Island, we have orders to restrain you and your crew-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute”, Jackson cuts in, the air suddenly back to his lungs. He was expecting that, “I’m Jackson Wang, interim captain of the _Seven_ ”, he half bows, then, to demonstrate a cordial greeting, “We come here in total peace, looking forward to discuss business with captain Park Jinyoung”.

The eyes of the navy captain narrow. “ _Admiral_ Jinyoung”, he starts, emphasizing particularly Jinyoung’s higher rank. Jackson raises an eyebrow. _That_ he was not expecting, “has no business to discuss with pirates”.

“Oh, but he does”, Jackson insists, stepping forward to the captain, only to be met with the lower ranks marines' guns higher up in his direction. He raises his hands up in rendition and gestures for Youngjae to come closer.

When Youngjae does, the navy captain looks honestly startled. Brought wrapped in thick ropes, dragged by the other pirates, is a tall, but thin young guy. His mouth is shut with a muzzle, but the rest of his face is recognizable enough, Jackson is sure. No one could pass by all the posters featuring his face around the Kingdom.

“You see”, Jackson starts, pointing at his captive, and then pointing at the navy captain. He seems to understand the implication of the gesture, as he swallows an amount of nothing and answers, a bit vexed,

“Mark, Captain of the _Red Sky_ ”.

 _Oh_ , Jackson wants to say, it _does_ fit him. He smiles despite himself and doesn’t question the lack of the surname, what obviously means that Mark doesn’t consider them enough deserving of that information.

“ _Mark_ ”, Jackson repeats, slowly and carefully enunciated. Then he stops at his tracks and amends, “Are all navy captains that handsome?”

Mark just frowns in answer, visibly bothered by the change of subject, and Jackson laughs. “I’m sorry. You’re just…”, he stops again, unsure as how to really describe the composure, the emanating _something_ the navy captain’s figure has, and seeing the impatience building in Mark’s feature as water beginning to boil, “You see, Mark of the Red Sky, Park Jinyoung, when he was a captain just like you and me”, Mark scuffs at that, “out in the open sea, ambushed our ship and arrested _our_ captain, JB”.

“Im Jaebum”, Mark corrects. Jackson isn’t going to argue about something so feeble as names, “He’s serving time in jail for robbery, assassination, and pillage on small village towns by south”.

“I know the charges”, Jackson smiles again. Mark, surprisingly, stays quiet at that, “The fact is that we want our captain back. And we know you’re not going to release him for us just for being nice guys like that, so we brought someone in exchange”.

With another small hand gesture, Youngjae pushes the prisoner guy even more forward. Jackson takes the muzzle out of his mouth and the youngster wimps.

“I’m sure you know who Bambam is”.

For the tightness of the navy captain’s lips, Jackson is sure he indeed knows. And that, by now, he is very aware of the weight of the trade they want to make. But Jackson speaks up, anyway, just to keep his game on the side that’s winning, as long as he can,

“He’s right now with a price on his head put on by no other than the King himself. I’m sure he won’t mind putting his hands on him if he has the chance. _But_ ”, Jackson says, pushing Bambam’s head up by the length of his hair, “he’s _our_ prisoner. We’ll just be glad to exchange him for yours”.

Deep down, Jackson knows of the possibilities of this blowing out of proportions. That Mark, the captain of the Red Sky, could just kill all of them or put them in jail, including Bambam _and_ Jackson. They are, after all, the outlaw ones. But, at the same time, he knows how the navy works, and how fighting a whole pirate ship out of the blue would be a heavy lost on their side as well, so he’s counting on that.

Adds the fact that Bambam is too much of a precious bait to be thrown out in the middle of a small war and risk the possibility of Jackson himself slitting off his throat before he goes to the King’s justice. So, when Mark shifts his weight on his foot and breathes in a little deeper than before, Jackson knows the good luck is on his side today.

“You stay right where you are. My guys will keep an eye for every motion you make. I’m going after the Admiral”.

 

* * *

 

Funny enough, seeing Jinyoung is like meeting an old friend. There’s a feeling of familiarity on his hard features, seriousness, and strong sense of justice dripping out of his pores. Jackson doesn’t like him. Not even a little bit. Jinyoung is that one guy on the law side that is uncorrupted, unmoved by promises of gold and glory. They met him and fought the way out of him an uncountable amount of times. Jinyoung used to sail the _Blue Kingdom_ , the ship who had the King’s personal shield sculpted just above the gargoyle on the front. The pirates could saw it coming from a frightening distance and knew that at least one of them wouldn’t escape alive. He could kill them right off the bat or arrest them, but that would lead to be condemned and hanged, later on, so meeting with Jinyoung could only mean death, at the end of it.

“So you got promoted”, Jackson greets him, offering a wide sarcastic smile that gets unanswered, “Admiral Park Jinyoung”.

“I did, yes”, Jinyoung answers, his hands never leaving the sword on the side of his waist. There’s that, also. Jinyoung only uses swords, even when the guns are taking its place for ages now. Jackson finds it unnerving, how good he is sword-fighting. Jackson, inclusive, _can_ find this unnerving because he’s the best swordsman still navigating those seas. “Got promoted by arresting your fellow captain”.

Jackson raises an eyebrow at that, “Oh, I see. I thought it was because of your name”.

The small look of triumph in Jinyoung’s eyes fades like a fleeting candle light. One could say that he hears enough jokes on account of having the same name as the King. If that bothers him, Jinyoung never says. He just stares harder at Jackson’s long lost memory and, then, points at Mark.

“Mark told me what you came here to offer”. Jackson just stays in silence, risking a glance at Mark’s stoic figure. “But I can’t decide that on my own. As you know, of course, the King has a particular interest in the forger”. Jinyoung’s eyes slowly stares down at Bambam, whose head is lowered, looking at the floor the entire time. Jackson can almost feel pity for the guy. The _Seven_ found him far on northeast, starving and searching for a place to hide where he wouldn’t be sold in ten seconds for the one hundred million pounds that are on his _living_ head. If he is dead, the reward drops to half, but it’s still a considerable amount for no one be able to think twice if Bambam’s being difficult.

The legend on him ran quicker than the general good will people have to help the ones in trouble, unfortunately, so, the moment Youngjae brought him on board of the _Seven_ for a piece of fresh fish, Jackson already knew all about his skillful forgery fame, as much as the work of falsifying important royal documents that got the King particularly mad. No food on a pirate ship is entirely for free, Jackson told him, and Bambam thought that he was going to have to clean the deck with a toothbrush or something.

The cost of saving a life, however, is always losing one.

“I’ll have to write to the King on this matter”, Jinyoung finally concludes, and Jackson can’t tell he wasn’t expecting that. “It should take about three days to get the response, so you can wait here on the Island”. His voice raises two octaves to form the next phrase, “With two conditions”, he gestures to Mark on his right, who doesn’t even look sideways to hear the order, “Mark and his guys are going to keep a close eye on you. To make sure our deal is honest”.

Youngjae shifts by Jackson’s side with a tangible discomfort. Keep a close eye obviously means following them like a bunch of hungry wild dogs, waiting for the opportunity to jump at their flesh and eat it to the bone. Mark is impassive, the black hat on his hand in respect for his superior and the blonde hair blowing easily with the wind. Jackson isn’t comfortable either, but, for the sake of the crew, he can’t show it.

“He’s the captain of the biggest and most important ship we have at the moment”, Jinyoung continues, “So I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. Also”, he stops, pointing at Jackson’s own sword on his left side, his dearest pirate pride, “no weapons while you’re here”.

Jackson can’t hold an amused laughter, “Are you that scared of me, Jinyoung?”

“Admiral”, is the only thing Jinyoung replies, and Jackson rolls his eyes, still fighting a quite nervous smile.

Without any further words, Jackson removes his sword holster from the waist and carefully drops it on the ground. On a next motion, he pulls the pistol out of his back and lets it join the other weapon. With both empty hands on air, Jackson asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal”, Jinyoung says, and the other mariners don’t waste time before grabbing his sword and pistol to take them further away from him, as well as they start to rummage Jackson’s men. They grunt and some of them murmur curse words under their breath, because taking their weapons, sometimes, gives an worse feeling than taking their own mothers. Both of them, one time or another, gave them the gift of living for a while longer.

“I have my condition too”, Jackson states, loud enough to overcome the sudden noise from the crew and the mariners. Jinyoung looks at him with a raised eyebrow as if thinking that he can’t be bold enough to say something like this. That’s where he is wrong, though, because Jackson is. “Bambam stays with me until then. No positive answer from the King and we’re taking him back with us. Feel free to put, on your words, your biggest and most important ship after the _Seven_ , if you will”.

In one sole sentence Jackson manages to see an expression of distaste building itself on both Jinyoung and Mark’s face. They stay silent for a few more seconds than Jackson would expect, and he almost thinks the deal is so quickly over, when Jinyoung just nods and turns to leave.

Jackson sees his navy blue uniform walking away, the rest of his men pilling up the pirate crew’s guns, and remembers the last of Jimin’s prophecy, so many years ago, _The navy blue will be tinted red_ , she had said and stopped, staring right into his eyes, _just like your heart._

As the bright red uniform of the Red Sky captain goes out of sight and inside of his precious ship for inspection, Jackson sighs heavily besides Youngjae, who, oblivious to his memories, doesn’t understand when he speaks,

“So I guess he’ll kill me, won’t he?”

The wind is quiet, and that’s the only answer he gets.

 

* * *

 

Youngjae is the one who carries Bambam back to the ship’s hold. He complains to Jackson, loud enough for the navy captain to hear, about how he’s going to keep the prisoner if he has no weapon on him anymore. Jackson sighs, because he loves Youngjae as his younger brother, really, but why does he have to be so difficult?

“He’s in a cell. You have the key. That should do it, don’t you think?” Youngjae pouts like a contradicted kid. “Besides”, Jackson amends, “Captain Mark and his men have weapons, so we’ll just count on him to keep our prisoner on track, right? It’s not like they want to lose him either”.

Mark finally seems to acknowledge the conversation, “I’ll have a man to help you”, he says, simply, turning back to a particularly young looking navy sailor, “Yugyeom”. The guy visibly shivered upon hearing his name, as if he was the one at fault on that ship, or as if his captain could, at any given moment, decide that he isn’t good enough for the task. Jackson guesses he’s new, “You’re responsible for the prisoner on the hold from now on”, Mark commands, “Keep track of him and his life like it is your own”.

Yugyeom salutes and leaves down the stairs, and it doesn’t take two seconds before Mark is again yelling orders at his subordinators to check every small corner of the pirate ship in search for traps, hidden weapons or smuggled items.

“I understand your concern, Captain, but this is my ship”, Jackson says, stopping him on his track. That’s why he doesn’t like dealing with the navy; they think they are so much better than everyone else. “And _we_ are not the prisoners here. But I can show you around, if you’re so interested”.

If he has to be honest, Jinyoung is a lot easier man. His face cringe when he’s upset, his brow furrow when he’s angry and his smile is smug when he’s having his way on things, so you can always tell his emotions on every reaction he’s going to give. Jackson is used to him, been used for a long time, knows which screws he has to press, on the right angle, at the right time. Jackson can make Jinyoung really pissed or really tamed when he wants to.

This new Captain, though, looks like a brick wall. Very well constructed, indeed, but absolutely unmoving. Jackson can guess some emotion or another, but he can never be sure. He doesn’t speak much, on top of it all. And, when he does, sometimes, Jackson is impressed,

“Ok”, Mark replies, “Show me around”.

Since Jackson became a pirate he has been on two different ships, serving three different captains. The first one he left by his own will, when he was a simple pirate at the deck commanded by Park Joon, the Fearless. Joon got his nickname, also the name of his ship, for being, in fact, absolutely crazy. So crazy that he would dare to do things other people would consider humanly impossible and that, somehow, translated in the small world of sea sailing as courage. Jackson, on the contrary, has too many fears and doubts to be able to follow him around blindly, so he got away at the second port they stopped, fuelled by the promises of sailing with the _Seven_ , under the command of Eric Nam.

The _Seven_ was already a big ship by then, with its imposing black sails and such a strong wooden hulk that the words around were that he would never sink. Jackson was only seventeen, and Eric Nam put him to train with his best swordsman, an elder pirate with a lasting beer breath and bad jokes. It took two years for Eric to die, not by sword or bullet, but by some undiscovered illness that got him in bed for two weeks before passing away. It was then that JB got his place, and Jackson became his second in charge.

As history unfolds itself, the _Seven_ is Jackson’s home. He’s twenty three now, with most of his life spent on board of that ship, sharing himself with those people. He knows every corner as an extension of his body, and he likes talking about them as much as he likes showing them to people; new pirates, curious town farmers, annoying full of themselves navy captains.

He stops by the deck and is sure to show how the ship works, how it sails and how its shape makes it one of the fastest ships to run those waters. It works almost as a challenge, even. _See how good Seven is_ , Jackson is silently saying, _and try coming after us_. Mark doesn’t look impressed or particularly scared, but he just doesn’t look nothing. He remains quiet, but his piercing gaze into Jackson’s eyes swallows every word, every tiny information, with an attention and zeal that only someone who loves living in the sea can understand.

Maybe, Jackson thinks, if they weren’t on such different paths, they could somehow be two people with very similar interests in common. Some would call it friends.

“The wood and cuts of our ship’s hull are what allow us to sail those frozen waters by West”, Jackson explains, pointing to the side of the bow, just where the ship floats to meet the dock in calm and rhythmical splashes of small waves, “You know, that one that looks like you can cross through, but it rips the hull from the bottom up and most smaller, weaker ships sink ocean down”.

When Jackson’s head goes up again, Mark is looking at him. In a way that makes him a bit disconcerted, almost like JB does when Jackson is speaking too much, again, but only slightly different. JB is most condescending, used to the overflow of words and information non stop dropping out of Jackson’s mouth like August rain, so he just sighs and lets it pass until it does, eventually. Mark, on the other hand, looks like he is somewhat amazed. Like he’s _seeing_ Jackson for the first time, suddenly stopping from being just a despising pirate to being an actual person. His brow is furrowed, and, when he opens his mouth, the deep voice is low and sounds less as an order than everything else he said so far,

“I never sailed West”.

Jackson is surprised. “Haven’t you? Why?”

Mark straightens his figure, and Jackson is expecting him to say, any minute, something along the lines of _It’s none of your business_ , because that’s the answer he’s used to have when talking with officials. Most of the time, it really isn’t his business, indeed.

“It’s another marine jurisdiction”, Mark answers, despite not looking at Jackson anymore, gaze fixed on the Seven’s hull, going up to the helm and possibly certifying that his men are doing what he told them to.

“I know”, Jackson replies, and, when Mark is back staring at him, his lips curve upwards in a sly smile, “But it’s just a land separated by sea”, he points to the Captain’s shield sewed on Mark’s red coat, “And you have a ship”.

Mark is silent again. The ship’s noise surround them like mist, the pirates yelling to each other and raging about having to share their space with mariners. Jackson can hear some teasing laughter and jokes about pristine uniforms and nancy King’s boys, and, somehow, the air becomes too thick for him to breathe. His throat feels dry and closed, so Jackson coughs a little and does what he does best.

He rambles.

“It’s a beautiful land, the West. The cold is particularly harsh in the winter, that’s when the water freezes and the docking is difficult, but, when it’s spring or summer, it has the sweetest fruits I’ve ever eaten”. Jackson says, and he can feel in his mouth how good food is in West as if he had just arrived from there, not after months long ship travel. “The girls are also very pleasant to look at”, he raises an eyebrow, pointedly, and grins, but Mark’s expression is just aloof again, clearly indicating that jokes are not welcomed.

 _We are not friends_ , Mark’s distant behavior seems to be punctuating every second that passes between Jackson’s words, and he knows. He knows. He just needs to remember that with a bit of constancy, before he finds himself locked up in jail because of his stupid mouth.

That’s why, Jackson considers, bitterly, that’s why JB’s definitely a better captain.

 

* * *

 

The cells are dusty and smelling like long years cultivated mold. When he goes down the stairs, he covers his nose with a small piece of fabric from the front pocket of his blue uniform to refrain from being nauseated. It’s a long corridor, and some prisoners call his name when he passes through them, or just yell futile pleads of release. Jinyoung ignores them all. When he gets to the last, small cell, it seems darker than the rest. On the corner, a tall, board shouldered figure is sitting with his knees on his chest, head lowered. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t call Jinyoung’s name, or captain, or asks for freedom. Jinyoung stops right in front of the bars separating them; the good and the bad guy, the law and the criminal.

“You know, you have a very loyal crew”.

The guy from the cell finally acknowledges Jinyoung’s presence, raising his head to look at him, “Oh”, he says, nonchalant, “It’s you”.

Jinyoung doesn’t respond to that. “Usually the second in charge is dying to get a chance to take the ship and name himself captain, but Jackson Wang just showed up here and asked me to release you”.

Im Jaebum gives him a knowing, conceited smile, “That’s why he’s my second in charge”.

Jinyoung narrows his eyes, trying to get past the untouched pose of the _Seven_ ’s original captain, searching for something he cannot point out exactly. He sent the letter to the King just about twenty minutes ago, and he’s almost positive he’ll say yes, but Jinyoung can’t help feeling a bit vexed about the whole deal. A lot of his life in the sea was spent chasing JB, arriving too late, staying behind. The day he locked him in this cells was the day Jinyoung finally slept in peace.

But, now, things are going back to the wrong route again.

Maybe it is not JB’s fault, and something in that _Seven_ ship _is_ really enchanted, just like the legends say. Jinyoung doesn’t like the idea of going against what he can’t reach, so he shoves that thought away into the intangible depths of his mind.

“What would you do if you regained your liberty?”, he questions, then, and JB’s right eyebrow goes all the way up into his forehead, evidently intrigued by that.

“Well, what would I?”, JB repeats, slowly and deliberated, standing up and walking to the cell bars, wrapping his fingers around the cold iron. When they first met, JB had a lot of rings on his hands. Jinyoung looks at them now and finds weirdly emptied. He instinctively takes a step back. “I would take my ship back”.

It’s simple and obvious, and Jinyoung feels stupid he even asked, in the first place. He senses that JB is somehow joking on his expense, so he crosses his arms in front of his chest and tries to make his most authoritarian voice when he speaks,

“It would be just a matter of time before you’re back in here, then”.

JB chuckles, what innerves Jinyoung in a level he can’t measure. “We’ll see. It took you long enough to get me here, to begin with”.

The chuckle turns into a wide smile, all the white aligned teeth, that could’ve been even charming if it was coming from someone else. Jinyoung knows better, though.

“I probably shouldn’t”, he says, then, and it’s more for himself than for JB, “but I wish you’ll stay here still rotting for many years to come”.

JB doesn’t reply. The big, defiant smile is fixed on his face, his hands are grasping the iron bars tightly, very close to the height of Jinyoung’s neck, and that’s where he leaves him, arrested and away from Jinyoung’s worst death nightmares.


	2. I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for everyone that left kudos. I hope you like this chapter as well.

Keep a close eye, unfortunately for the _Seven_ ’s crew, apparently means staying in the ship full time. Mark keeps guard like a watch dog, reclined by the side of the Captain’s cabin door. Jackson doesn’t know how he slept through the night, or even _if_ he slept at all, because, when the sun is back up in the sky and Jackson steps out of his cabin the next day, Mark is still in the same place, like he never moved, eyes open, hat on his head.

The cook, Min, who Jackson had to fought JB to keep on the ship, long years ago, when he was all against having a woman on board and claiming a lifelong route of bad luck and gods’ wrath upon them, laughs when Jackson tells her about this, and says that _of course the red captain slept, don’t be a twat_. Red Captain, Jackson thinks, is a quite fitting name his crew took a liking to call Mark.

Min even says they saw him, late night, sliding against the wood wall by the helm, putting his hat on his face, and sleeping just like that, sited as a homeless man on the streets. Jackson thinks that it serves him right by have choosing to be a blind, uncritical follower of the King and the navy’s orders, restraining _him_ from moving freely around the city.

When Min laughs again about that - what Jackson perhaps complained out loud, because he has very little restrain when it comes to her -, and makes him an special protein-filled breakfast, a blue navy uniform appears by the ship’s kitchen door. Kind of shy, unsure as if he is even allowed to speak. Jackson recognizes him; it’s the guy Mark named responsible for keeping Bambam on track.

“The prisoner”, the guy says, forcing himself to appear demanding in front of him, a filthy, outlaw pirate, to begin with. The mariner clears his throat, “The prisoner is asking for some food”.

Jackson smiles at him, or maybe because of him, he can’t tell. It’s funny, those youngsters, still too much guided by voices of other people, “Oh”, he exclaims, “Youngjae forgot about Bambam, didn’t he?”

The young navy sailor gives back a tentative smile, showing a bit of relief for being treated with some unexpected cordiality. “Apparently, yes”.

Jackson pats the vacant seat by his side, “C’mere, eat some breakfast with us. You can take those chickens and juice to Bambam after. What’s your name again?”

Min is quick to prepare an extra amount of toast at Jackson’s words, and the navy mariner approaches them, throwing a leg over the wood bench, sitting at the place Jackson pointed him to. “Yugyeom”, he answers.

“Yugyeom”, Jackson repeats, leaning forward in his direction, “Tell me something... I’ve been always curious about this”, Yugyeom takes a gulp of the juice Min gives him, “What led you to join the navy?”

That seems to release the tension and boosts up his proud in himself and his life choices, “I like the sea”, he talks, overly excited, and his eyes light up like a child’s talking about Christmas’ presents, “I’ve always wanted to sail”.

“You can do that without the stigma of the navy’s shield, you know”, Jackson picks at Yugyeom’s sleeve, where the heraldic shield of the Royal Family’s army is sewn. It’s like a prison cell, Jackson wants to say, not being able to do nothing by yourself, not being able to  travel wherever you want, just because you want, and leave when your time to do so has come. He doesn’t speak that, though. Yugyeom, differently from Mark, keeps up the conversation,

“I wanted to sail under Captain Mark’s command”, Yugyeom says, eating the second toast. Jackson can’t say he isn’t surprised. His brows go up and his eyes widen just slightly.

“Him? The Red Captain?”, Jackson points outside of the kitchen with his thumb. Yugyeom, mouth full, nods. “Why?”

“He’s a very competent sailor. Became captain of the Red Sky when he was eighteen”, there’s pure admiration dripping out of Yugyeom’s pores and falling at their feet by the table, like he wants it to be his story. “Also a very fair person. He seems calm, but can be very scary when he’s pissed off, so he argues a lot with superiors when it comes to our sake”.

Jackson hums, not particularly interested, but vaguely intrigued by the post of captain being given to someone at such a young age. He thinks of asking in details how this happened, but the voice of JB in his head shuts him up. _Never show to be impressed by your enemy_ , he used to say all the damn time.

So Jackson gets up, tells Min her food was delicious, and pushes the basket with chickens in Yugyeom’s direction,

“Don’t forget Bambam. If our prisoner starves, the King will have your head instead to compensate the damage”, he sees Yugyeom gulping faster than he should, “And there’ll be no scary captain that can take you out of it”.

It’s good when Yugyeom jumps out of his seat, with the basket in hand, and storms right behind Jackson to go the ship basement. He can be a scary captain when he wants to as well, after all.

 

* * *

 

Youngjae is visibly impatient when Yugyeom gets back, his feet tottering back and forth as someone who wants badly to take a piss.

“Where were you?”, he asks, almost too snarky for Yugyeom’s liking - he _is_ a mariner, he’s on the side of the law and the one supposed to asks questions on pirates here. As an answer, Yugyeom only shakes slightly the bag full of chickens in front of Youngjae’s eyes. That’s when he pays attention to Bambam as well, suddenly very interested by the smell of food, getting up from the floor.

“You take from now, then”, Youngjae says, halfway already on the way up to the dock, and Yugyeom doesn’t even look at him leaving. He just sighs, getting closer to the bars that separate him from the prisoner, looking at Bambam’s expectative eyes,

“Is that food?”, he questions, both hands holding the cell bars on each side of his head.

It’s a bit funny, Yugyeom thinks. Such a young, thin guy, who looks almost like a child, grabbing that much attention not only from the higher ranks of the navy, but from the King as well. If he met Bambam on the streets, he wouldn’t spare him a second glance.

Bambam’s fingers point to the bag he’s still holding, and Yugyeom realizes he has been still in the same position for longer than he thought, frowning in contemplation.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, he says, hanging the bag to Bambam the same time as smacking himself mentally for _apologizing_ to a criminal. Mark would never do that, he’s sure about it.

Bambam also _eats_ like a hungry small kid, and Yugyeom questions how he’s able to maintain his body in shape. Bambam stops for a mid-second, feeling himself being observed, and raises one eyebrow pointedly at Yugyeom.

“Want some?”, he offers, piece of chicken greasy on his hand, licking the thumb of the other.

Yugyeom denies with a shake of his head. “Already ate”.

Bambam nods, getting back to eat, “Thank you, by the way. Youngjae would let me starve; his head is just not in the right place”.

An amused grin perks its way to Yugyeom’s mouth, and he forces it back down,  acutely aware that he can’t show any kind of sympathetic concordance to someone he’s in charge of keeping in jail. Someone whose head has a price in the whole country.

“What happened with you?”, he finds himself saying, out of nowhere, ignoring the alarming red signs blowing inside of his head. Bambam glances at him with a questioning look, so he throws precaution out of the window and questions further, “I mean, the King’s price on your head and everything. What did you do?”

“Don’t you know?”, Bambam asks, seeming a bit surprised, “Aren’t you a navy sailor or something?”

Yugyeom feels almost embarrassed at that remark. He _is_ a navy sailor, but he’s on such a lower rank that he doesn’t really know the reasons behind the orders; he just tries his best to follow them. Anyone at his level who has questions is shut out under shouts of not being committed enough to their job. That’s why, inclusive, he asked to be under Mark’s command. Although he doesn’t know about everything, he sure knows more than others mariners he has met.

Under Yugyeom’s silence, Bambam just finishes his chicken, passes back the empty basket, and says,

“I forge things”. That much, Yugyeom almost points out, he’s aware already. “The point is that almost all of the people who forge things are crap at it, and I’m not”. Yugyeom raises one eyebrow at the cockiness, but lets him go on, “So I’ve forged some royal documents, and, when they found it, let’s say that the royal’s properties had already gotten a significant blow”.

Bambam smirked, obviously pleased with himself, and Yugyeom had to admit that it was pretty impressive, if he could let all the moral and legal issues aside. The royal documents have always been something that even the most skillful forger couldn’t duplicate; the paper in which they are made have an impressive watermark, and the king himself uses a personal red stamp to guarantee its diplomatic value. Some people used to say, even, that the ink came all the way across the globe, from faraway lands with odd gods and mystic rituals to produce such a bright color.

And Bambam… Bambam looks so _young_. Placed there, on the already small corner of the ship, closed by iron bars, he looks skinny and helpless like a little child. Yugyeom isn’t able to let this go. In a way, at such an early age, Bambam accomplished more things than himself. Not things he could or _should_ be proud about, but he is undeniably talented at something.

Sometimes, Yugyeom still doubts he found his own place. He didn’t lie to Jackson; he _does_ love the sea, and he does love to be under Captain Mark’s command. The question is if he is honestly good at it. If that’s really his vocation in life. He looks at Bambam finishing his meal, seeming pleased with himself despite being two days away from a life-long prison - maybe even a death sentence - and he just doesn’t _know_.

 

* * *

 

Jackson wakes up with a bright light and a loud noise, that only a few seconds after he classifies as a thunder. The ship is swinging like a lost piece of wood on the sea, and Jackson presses his eyelids to accustom his eyes with the darkness. Outside he can hear some yells to pull down the sails, as well as the crash of the ship’s hull clashing with the water, a rhythmic thug that sounds almost as if the ocean is playing a beautiful song of destruction.

With his experience, he can tell that it’s yet the middle of the night. He gets up more as a protocol to the check the work of the men outside than out of necessity; he knows the _Seven_ can handle much worse than a small storm in the middle of the dawn. When he opens the cabin door, he almost forgets that Mark is there, knees up to his chest, looking cold and somewhat wet, making shelter for the pouring rain with his own hat over his face, like the crew has spread as the way he usually sleeps.

Jackson sighs. He gets out, calling for Namjoon to give him orders to stabilize the ship against the high waves. From his experience, he can tell the rain is not going to last a bit more than two hours; enough to make some big damage on land, but not for them. In the middle of the ocean, they’ve already dealt with storms that lasted days, and, if Jackson believes in the gods, he can say that, in the end, they are as much as tired as the pirates are right now. This, right here, is close to nothing.

After the crew is in charge and control of the situation, Jackson gets back in the direction of his cabin. Mark is still there, dripping wet, still as a statue, same way he was when he first passed by him. Jackson wonders how someone can sleep so deeply in a situation like this. Perhaps the navy mariner, the little one, Yugyeom, is somewhat right, after all. Apparently there’s more to Mark than an ironed red coat and pompous posture. After a few seconds of contemplation, Jackson opens the door, stops just before he enters, takes a deep breath, and swears to himself out loud.

He _is_ very careless, isn’t he? He knows he’s doing things he shouldn’t, and, yet, he does it anyway. That’s the only explanation - even if it doesn’t explain anything - he has when he knees down a bit in front of the wet, sleeping figure of Mark, and removes the hat from off his face. Mark makes an instant startled, but quickly turning vigilant, face, fingers coming to the pistol on his side. When his eyes slowly focus on Jackson’s face, he visibly relax a bit. It’s a weird reaction, and Jackson should feel offended, if it wasn’t so late at night and he could think properly. At the moment, though, he just sees it as somehow welcoming.

“Come in”, Jackson says, voice low and quiet to not disturb Mark’s still sleepy condition, “It’s warmer”.

Honestly speaking, Jackson is positive Mark will turn down the invitation. _They are not friends_. Jackson even feels kind of stupid for worrying over him. It’s a fully grown, experienced marine captain he’s dealing with, not the small kids that come and go to the _Seven_ looking for training and shelter, with big dreams of becoming pirates and minimal skill or understanding of what they’ll really have to endure. Jackson always takes a liking and spoils them too much; the only reason they turn out remotely good after some months is because of JB’s undeniable commander abilities.

But Mark is not like inexperienced kids. Jackson can bet he slept through worse conditions, the same way _Jackson_ did too, a few times in his life. In the situation he is right now, even, Jackson himself would prefer sleeping in the middle of the rain, cold and uncomfortable, than inside of a mariner’s cabin. It’s both a matter of principles and instinct of survival.

When he goes back up, though, Mark follows suit. It’s even he’s too tired to think, or he doesn’t see Jackson as a real threat. Jackson doesn’t care.

“I’ll get a wine to make you warmer”, he says, walking to get the drink bottles. Mark doesn’t say anything; he removes the soaked red coat and his boots, sits on the corner of the floor on the other side of Jackson’s bed, and just murmurs a small thanks when accepts the glass of wine.

Jackson sits on his own bed, in the exactly opposite direction. It’s a bit weird, seeing Mark like that, without the whole uniform, placed on the floor in front of his bed, hair dripping wet, drinking his wine. He looks almost like any other of the _Seven_ ’s crew, despite the fact that, unlike them, Mark does have a full charged pistol and a sword at the reach of his hands, and he doesn’t favor pirates. Jackson himself doesn’t realize he is also out of his daily clothes until Mark points out a neck chain, usually covered by the long-sleeved white shirt he uses over the thinner, sleeveless one he wears to sleep.

“What’s that?”, Mark asks.

“Oh”, Jackson says, instinctively grabbing it with one of his hands, a little startled by Mark starting a conversation. “This is the special reason as to how I’ve manage to go to so many places successfully”, he explains, fast and fumbling, not without a hint of self-proud. He pulls up the neck chain from under his shirt and shows an old gold, outworn compass.

On the underside of the compass, when Jackson turns it around in Mark’s direction, there’s an inscription of an almost fading R. T. craved with what could be a knife. The lines are a bit trembled, but the letters are clear to read. Some sort of surprise crosses over Mark’s features, in a way Jackson had only seen until now when Bambam was put in front of him for a trade, like he didn’t expect that outcome at all. Jackson smiles widely,

“It belonged to one of the most famous pirates that sailed that sea once. Some people say it’s enchanted, and will take you wherever you need to be”.

The moment of curiosity seems to blank out from Mark’s features. He reclines his back against the wall and looks straight into Jackson’s eyes. Jackson feels shivers run through his spine, but he can’t say it’s exclusively from any form of intimidation. Mark is so handsome that Jackson has to question himself how he would be acting right now if they were just some average sailors or any village people meeting by chance - he would _so_ surely be doing what he could to have him on his bed, lame pickup lines and whatnots.

The way Mark takes a bigger gulp of wine and shifts his weight with the hands on the floor looks like he is indeed more interested in the conversation than he wants to let it show. He question, then, in a tone that’s calm and unaffected,

“Where did you get this?”

“It was a fair trade”, Jackson answers, getting the compass back under his shirt, “for saving someone’s life”.

Although his tongue does cut loose most of the time, Jackson knows he can’t say more on this subject than this. He is a pirate, and he uses ways that go diametrically against the ones Mark does and believes in. Some things are not just divergence of opinion, they can be used against him and put him in jail, right next JB _and_ Bambam, in the near future. So, this time, it’s actually comforting that Mark returns to his usual stoic self and doesn’t say or question anything else.

Jackson lays down on his bed and almost doesn’t sleep that night. He can tell, by the uneven breath coming out from the other side, that Mark doesn’t either. It’s funny, if he considers it for a moment, that Mark slept so much better outside, in the cold rain.

Maybe Jackson _is_ a threat, at the end of the day. He can’t say he isn’t pleased.

 

* * *

  

Youngjae misses Jaebum. Not because he doesn’t like Jackson, or doesn’t think Jackson is able to be a captain - more so than he thought before, when JB named him second in command, if he’s being honest. Youngjae misses JB the same way he believes that _Jackson_ misses him too; JB is a fair captain, and it’s getting more difficult, as the time passes, to find those still sailing. More than this, JB is a friend, and _that_ ’s even more difficult to find among pirates.

Contrary to most false sayings about them that Youngjae is used to hear, carried by the wind in every city they stop by, in scared whispers and low murmurs of displeasure, one thing that’s true is that pirates are not trustworthy. He’s been sailing for only five years and he can already tell, so much because Youngjae is the kind of person that _trusts_ people.

So, while he knows now that Jackson can be a captain as good as JB is, that his knowledge of the sea is wide and his decisions are always a bit messy, but with good intentions and satisfactory results, Youngjae also knows that he sees this because of his own personality. Between the darker corners of the ship, the night patrols, the moments taken to eat something, the crew’s poison is slowly spreading like mist upon a river. They recognize Jackson reasonably and nice as far as a fellow colleague, sited on the deck deep dawn, drinking alcohol and telling funny jokes. As someone in charge, though, the noses turned quickly, even among those who used to tap his back and laugh beside him.

The first opposition Jackson got was because of Min. The crew still remembers the day when Jackson convinced JB to let her in, and even made her the official cook of the ship. The day JB got arrested was the day that story came up again in burning fire; everyone gathered around the deck, yelling that she was the evident cause of their bad luck, the sole reason why they lost their captain. One of them stepped further, with a solemn, grave voice, announcing that they were _all_ going to die if Min stayed another minute inside of the _Seven_.

Youngjae kept quiet, motionless by Jackson’s side, ready to take out his sword, if necessary. A moment of loss of a captain is always a confusing transition, and Youngjae was on guard to maintain Jackson’s authority, even if that meant that the team would be cut down to half. Jackson’s face, however, was unusually calm. Another man stepped in, declaring that they would not eat any food Min made until she was gone.

“If you stop eating”, Jackson said, at last, “you’ll only die faster. And I’m not even going to cry for your lives. So if anyone is unsatisfied, _you_ can leave the ship. Min stays”.

Two men left at the next port. The hunger strike didn’t happen, and, with the arrival of Bambam and the opportunity to rescue JB, the peace of the ship seemed restored. Youngjae, unfortunately, is not sure about how long it can last, especially if they fail to bring JB back now.

There’s also the clock-ticking bomb that keeps pulsing inside of Youngjae’s vein. He never talked about it to anyone, even one year after, despite the big suspicion that JB somehow always _knew_ something. It was him, to begin with, that asked Youngjae to look for Jackson the last time they stopped for supply, a short while before JB got caught by the marine police. Youngjae went to search at the market, where they bought fresh fruits and vegetables; sure that Jackson was still there, talking his mouth off with some local resident. He could remember the last time he saw him, near an apple stand, all wide smiles and sympathy with an old lady.

Youngjae didn’t find Jackson near any stand, however. He met him on a small alley, cross street, back to the wall, making another use of his mouth other than talk, for once. Up against his body was an young, eager, marketer _boy_ , and Youngjae left them before actually finding out the path their hands were tracing between rough kisses. His face was so hot in embarrassment that he stuttered five different words to lie to JB that he couldn’t encounter Jackson anywhere.

In a way, it didn’t surprise Youngjae. Jackson _is_ different than most pirates he knows, and he generally doesn’t mind things the majority of people wouldn’t even consider, let alone try. What scares Youngjae the most is that he is positive that more than half of the ship would be ready to ask for Jackson’s head on a plate or throw him out in open ocean on a blink of an eye if they ever even consider that part of Jackson’s life. He must also know that much, because Youngjae’s very used to see him openly flirting and kissing girls in front of the crew, but he needed a dark alley to disappear with some well-built marketer.

Considering everything that’s prone to go wrong, Youngjae gets concerned. He wonders, more often than not, how long they will be able to maintain the ship united under Jackson’s lead. And, being utterly honest, Youngjae also doesn’t want to wait and see who would be blood-seeking enough to claim the captain’s position after a riot. Besides JB and Jackson, Youngjae would follow less than five of the other men.

On another worrisome perspective, there’s also the navy. The blue uniforms are in every place Youngjae goes on the ship and, if _he_ ’s uncomfortable, so is everyone else. The navy captain responsible for keeping them in track, Mark, scares him more than Jinyoung once did. Youngjae feels like any piece may fall at any second, and then they’ll all be left with nothing more to hold up to. It’s with this kind of feeling that he knocks on the captain’s cabin door right by the morning, and, when Jackson opens up, he gets speechless.

In the corner of the cabin Youngjae can see Captain Mark putting on his red coat, closing the sleeves’ cufflinks, adjusting the mess of his hair that indicates that he’s been laying down just recently. Youngjae almost misses Jackson talking to him,

“‘Morning, Youngjae”.

He looks directly into Jackson’s eyes and frowns. Hard and demanding. In a way he isn’t very good to be, but, sometimes, you just have to have answers. Some understanding passes through Jackson’s features, and he turns back inside,

“Captain, can I have some time alone with my sailor?”, he asks Mark, who remains as silent and stoic as Youngjae has ever seen him until now. The smile Jackson gives him, then, is both sarcastic and scoffing, “You’re a captain too, I’m sure you understand the value of hearing the necessities of our men”.

Youngjae fights the urge of sighing with Jackson’s words. Here they are, being held hostage inside of their own ship, surrounded by lots of men with guns and swords, and Jackson is freely mocking their captain. He sees Mark rolling his eyes, putting his black hat back on his head, and, when he fears for one second that he’s going to yell some order of restrain and throw them all in jail, Mark passes by them and leaves.

Without wasting any second, Youngjae enters the cabin, closes the door, and points a very accusatory finger at his own captain’s face. Maybe he’s also reckless, because, when he realizes, he’s practically yelling:

“What are you doing?”

Jackson groans, throwing both of his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender,

“I _know_ , okay? It was raining a lot, he was out there like a kicked puppy”.  Youngjae frowns again at that, because he’s not sure he wants to ask what he wants to know. And, if there’s something he wouldn’t relate the navy captain to, that would be puppies. Youngjae _likes_ them.

Jackson seems to realize the line of his thinking, because he adds, “I don’t like him as much as you do, I just don’t think it does us any good to put those mariners in a bad mood for nothing. They have our ship in their hands for the moment”.

With that Youngjae agrees, in a way. He sighs, “That’s partially what I came here to tell you. There have been some murmurs…”

“Ours?”, Jackson asks, distancing himself to put on his long sleeved shirt. His voice is calm and unconcerned; Youngjae likes that part of him. In extreme moments, Jackson never lets people down. He can make decisions with a strong confidence that reverberates, and consequently rubs off on everyone else around.

“Unfortunately, yes”, Youngjae affirms, “They’re saying that your plan is coward; that we should just barge in and take JB out at once, because, the way it is right now, we’re just opening ourselves for the navy to do as they please”.

Jackson’s eyebrow goes higher, “All that after just one day?”

“They are impatient”. _They don’t like receiving orders from you_ , almost passes his lips, but Youngjae doesn’t say it. Some truths are better when hidden; some lies are better than silence.

“I understand”, Jackson replies, and Youngjae senses that he does, indeed, perhaps more than he lets show, perhaps more than all of the things Youngjae keeps trying to avoid to protect him. “I’m seeing Jimin today”.

“Do you think he’ll let you out?”, Youngjae asks. He doesn’t need to specify who _he_ is.

Jackson grins, “Do you not know me? I’m the king of persuasion”.

Youngjae laughs, despite the tension, the expectations, the worries. Youngjae laughs because, well, that’s Jackson. He got JB to accept a woman in the ship. He got the crew to accept his rescue plan. He got the navy to accept his prisoner trade.

Youngjae laughs because he trusts. Youngjae _really_ is the kind of person that trusts people, even when the horizon seems darker than it was the day before.


	3. It is not down on any map; true places never are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay or any mistakes! Thank you to everyone who's still reading this fic. It's sort of in the middle now, I think... Things are starting to unfold.

The day starts clear, with the sun shining bright after the sudden storm they passed through the night. It has been a while since Jinyoung saw such a heavy rain; it has also been a while since he navigated in the middle of one. Jinyoung misses that, sometimes. He likes to think he’s a good ship captain, and the smell of the sea and open sky are definitely more appealing than the ones of fresh ink, tons of paper, and a closed bureau.

Early in the working hours the door opens. Jinyoung sighs when he sees the King’s supervisor, the same old guy who drove him mad countless times, especially when he was new and scared in his position of admiral, making extra effort to do everything possible in his way to let the king proud.

Now, though, Jinyoung knows that the king is not his supervisor, and this guy can go to hell, for all he cares.

“Good morning, Admiral Jinyoung”, he says, smile big and annoying, “I’ve heard about the commotion with the  _ Seven _ docked at our port”.

“Did you?”, Jinyoung answers, eyes still fixed on his papers.

“Yes, I did. And I’m also wondering, since you are here, who is there making sure that all of those assassins are not plotting to pillage and murder our whole village”.

Jinyoung grits his teeth, closing his eyes to count a few seconds more of patience. He knows where this is going; he possibly knew the time the supervisor stepped in his office, the smile of anticipated victory plastered on his face like glue.

“Captain Mark and his crew are there, sir”, he replies, at last, closing the folder he was reading to look at the man directly in his eyes. They widen in a fake surprise; Jinyoung is sure that he was aware of that information since the beginning.

The king’s supervisor was the first real problem Jinyoung got when he was promoted. He reunited with him and navy admirals of others jurisdictions to the acceptance ceremony and indication of a new captain to put in his place, and the situation got out of hand when he firmly suggested Mark’s name.

“Mark?”, the king’s supervisor spoke, in a almost horrified tone, “Of the  _ Red Sky _ ?”

“I don’t see why not”, Jinyoung answered, honestly confused about the shock on the other’s expression, “He was captain before I was, his ship is fast, his crew respect him a lot”.

The navy admiral of the North raised one eyebrow, “You read his file, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes”, Jinyoung exclaimed, because he couldn’t believe that was being brought up as an issue. First and foremost, it was supposed to be a secret, discussed and buried inside of the navy’s headquarters, with no reason to be questioned twice, “Mark has been a navy captain since he was eighteen, I believe your insinuation is out of place here”.

A scoffing laugh came from the other side of the room, right out of the king’s supervisor’s mouth. He stared at Jinyoung from head to toe, downgrading all of his words with just one look, as if he was someone absurdly stupid.

“Out of place is your recommendation, Park Jinyoung”.  _ Admiral _ , Jinyoung wanted to correct him,  _ I was just named Admiral _ , “His filthy blood killed my family. And the family of a lot of good men here, in this room. And  _ your _ family too, captain, in a symbolic way, if you still care for our people”.

Jinyoung sighed. He knew the higher authorities of the navy were a bunch of older people with closed minds and prejudice, but he didn’t think it was  _ that _ hard. What gave him some hope to win this battle was that, even if some of the other admirals were clapping and yelling with the supervisor’s words, there was still a group that was quiet and contemplative throughout the whole discussion. Those ones Jinyoung could fight to win.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to disagree”, some loud cry of opposition came from somewhere Jinyoung didn’t pay attention to, “This discussion the navy all had, when he was eighteen and becoming a captain. It’s over. He’s as much our man as any of the admirals present here”. The admiral from the north, apparently the most difficult one, opened his mouth to protest, and Jinyoung went on before he could intervene, “Don’t you think that if he was after something, he would have done it already?”

The king’s supervisor cut in, “Don’t you think he could be just waiting for the opportunity of having a higher rank?”

And, when Jinyoung was just about to throw his hands in the air and give up, perhaps even of his own post if he wasn’t so fulfilled with self-pride for his conquer, the West’s admiral said:

“I think Admiral Jinyoung has a point”, his voice was low and well cadenced. Out of all admirals, the one from the West was the youngest before Jinyoung’s nomination. He was usually so severe and solemn that Jinyoung had hardly heard him talk. “We should let Mark take his position on the Island’s sea, and let Jinyoung be responsible for him. If anything happens”, his eyes turned to Jinyoung, but, despite the words that came out after, he sounded softer and more understanding than anyone else so far, “you’ll answer as his superior directly”.

The opinion quickly turned into a plea and a decision for direct voting, which, by the sum of the counting, ended up winning. Jinyoung believed that part of the result was also a way of seeing him  discredited. Some people were just waiting for the opportunity to question his own nomination as a navy admiral.

Now, Jinyoung is sure that the Jaebum case is the line that is going to show who has been right all this time. The same way that his imprisonment led Jinyoung to a promotion, his possible release can lead him to a stronger position among his peers. Or, in an ultimate, not discarded option, can also mean his career’s downfall. All of that, in a strange way, hold up inside of Mark’s hands.

“Do you think it’s wise letting Mark and his crew there?”, the supervisor asks, then, and Jinyoung is back from his reminiscences.

“I think it’s the best option that we have”, he replies, and it’s honest in a way that covers the best and worst case scenario his imagination can fulfill. “Now, if you excuse me, sir, I have some bureaucratic work to finish”.

* * *

 

Bringing breakfast for Bambam somehow became a tradition between them. Youngjae never is there in the morning; this one, after the storm, Yugyeom saw him heading fast to Jackson’s cabin. He wonders if Youngjae is really that forgetful or if he’s just so surely counting that the navy will not let their prisoner die. Which, of course, is the case here, because Captain Mark was incisive on that when giving Yugyeom the task to look out after him.

Yugyeom isn’t complaining, though. In a well-kept, secretive way, he  _ likes _ Bambam. Bambam is funny and easy to be around, and Yugyeom is even more surprised when he finds out that he’s  _ older _ than him. It surely doesn’t look like; despite being tall, Bambam has the extra energy typical of young teenagers. He talks with his mouth full and jokes around so unconcerned that, sometimes, Yugyeom almost feels the urge to ask if he isn’t afraid of the King’s penitence. If he isn’t afraid of  _ dying _ .

Sometimes, even, he finds himself wishing Bambam could go free.

These kinds of thoughts are put in the back of his mind in a heartbeat, because he knows they are morally wrong. Bambam should pay for his errors; it doesn’t matter if he’s supposedly a nice person, or if he often makes Yugyeom laugh so much that he spits his drink. It doesn’t matter if maybe the death penalty is too heavy for a crime like forgery, and if perhaps it only applies because it concerns the King’s properties. Yugyeom believes in justice, and, mostly, Yugyeom believes that he’s serving the right side.

“Have you ever eaten century egg?”, Bambam asks, excited, and Yugyeom remembers they are in the middle of a heated conversation about exotic food. He shakes his head, because he doesn’t ever even heard about it. “Some people say it’s produced by immersing the egg in horse pee. It’s quite a hit where I was born. When we meet again, in the future”, Bambam stops for a while, pulling the iron bars with fake strength and giving a short laugh, “and I’m not behind those things, I can take you to an amazing restaurant near my hometown”.

Yugyeom only smiles at that because  _ Bambam _ is smiling too. A quite friendly, genuine smile, like he doesn’t really care that Yugyeom is the mariner responsible for  _ keeping _ him behind those iron bars, to begin with. He’s possibly expecting an energetic response about the perspective of eating century egg, in an imaginary future that’s prone to never happen. It can be a form of escapism, even, but Yugyeom is a very down to earth person,

“You do know that the King is asking for your head, don’t you?”

When Bambam’s light expression falters, Yugyeom almost feels sorry for bringing it up. He thinks of laughing it off as a joke, albeit a distinctly cruel one, but Bambam is faster in answering it,

“Yeah, I do know”. There’s nothing friendly or lively in Bambam’s voice tone anymore. “My  _ head _ , because of some hectares of land that he has too much, when there are tons of people who don't have any”.

Yugyeom doesn’t know what to say in response. It’s the first time he’s hearing Bambam speak like that, all serious and with a hint of revolt concerning his current situation. It’s also probably the first time they are directly talking about his current situation at all. They spoke about the forgery, and the reason he got arrested, but never once about Bambam’s fate after that. Yugyeom wants to agree with him, but he  _ can’t _ .

“Besides”, Bambam continues, “the lands are recovered. That won’t happen to my head, once it is separated from my body”.

The sentence sounds like any other lame joke Bambam has made so far, but Yugyeom doesn’t feel like laughing this time. Before he realizes it, he’s saying:

“You should get a lighter sentence”, Bambam arches an eyebrow, looking surprised. Yugyeom is sure that, if he was listening to himself, he would also have the same reaction. That doesn’t stop his mouth, though, clearly: “I mean, you’re getting a sentence for assassination, it  _ is _ obviously unfair”.

When the last word comes out of his lips, Bambam’s mouth curves into a devious kind of smile Yugyeom has never seen before. He suddenly has the sense of a mouse guided through maze walls into one big piece of cheese tied to a mousetrap. He is torn between feeling stupid and played with or just suddenly seeing things in a new light. In a way, he has been thinking about all this even before Bambam brought it up. Somehow, the conclusion to the King’s unfairness was always echoing inside of his mind, a working set of sheaves of insubordination and questioning of rules.

“I have been thinking of something”. Surprisingly, it isn’t Yugyeom’s voice. All of this time, and he isn’t apparently the only one doing some thinking around there. Bambam’s voice is low and confident, so Yugyeom gets closer to the bars to hear it properly, “But I would need your help. That is, if you  _ would _ help me”.

Yugyeom doesn’t say yes or no, but the intents on his next sentence is clear:

“Tell me about it”.

* * *

 

Jackson finds Mark by the dock, talking with one of his men while eating an apple; what is possibly his breakfast, if Jackson would consider that he has never seen Mark have one. The whole situation is a lot awkward, if Jackson is honest. Although he didn’t do anything, and that he highly doubts that Mark would  _ want _ to do anything, first and foremost, the look on Youngjae’s face when he saw them on his cabin early that morning felt like Jackson was doing something he shouldn’t have. Something besides letting a marine captain sleeps within less than a meter from him.

He’s not sure if that’s only inside of his mind, the traitorous path it follows thinking of  _ possibilities _ \- imagination is still free, and it doesn’t weight social differences. When he gets to Mark, his eyes go from the sailor to Jackson, and one of his eyebrows rises up while waiting for what Jackson is there to say. The awkwardness is most likely one sided, indeed, because Mark is behaving like any other non-extraordinary day.

“Captain”, Jackson starts, with a small, scoffing bow of greeting. After a slight turn of Mark’s head, the other mariner leaves them alone. Mark takes another bite of his apple, and Jackson tries not to stare at his mouth as much as he imagines he’s doing.

“There’s some place I have to go today”, he says, then, going straight to the point. There’s no need for asking; he’s a captain in the same way Mark is. Jackson only asks things for JB.

Mark, though, seems to have a whole different idea on that matter, because his frown deepens and he looks back at Jackson as if he’s making some lame joke. “You can’t leave the ship”, he retorts, as if that ends the conversation altogether, “It’s part of the deal”.

“Not really. Captain Park Jinyoung”,  _ Admiral _ , he hears Mark murmur, a bit annoyed, under his breath. Jackson keeps going as if he didn’t hear anything; he keeps forgetting, and it’s not as if he really cares about the right nomenclature, “said ‘no weapons’ and that you should keep a close eye on my crew. He didn’t say ‘ _ no leaving the ship _ ’. So, if I’m not armed, the only consequence I see of going anywhere is you or one of your men having to go after me”.

Jackson smirks. Wide and sure of himself, in a way that he knows it’s probably making Captain Mark want to shoot him right between his teeth. He stays silent long enough to make Jackson almost think he’ll not really going to have an answer, until he sighs, takes another bite of the apple, leave the rest by the dock, and says,

“I’ll go with you. Taehyung is going to be responsible here on the ship. Anything”, he stops, looking right into Jackson’s eyes before repeating, “ _ Anything _ you think of pulling off and everyone is arrested. Are we clear?”

“No need for threats, captain”, Jackson answers, hands up in the air as a fake rendition, “If I meant to do something, I wouldn’t be here unarmed from the start, would I?”

Except that he would, indeed, and he’s sure the captain knows that very well. He can’t do anything to stop it, though, so Jackson flashes a victory smile in Youngjae’s direction as Mark puts his hat on and goes looking for Taehyung, because if it all goes wrong in the end, Jackson wants it to go wrong with a blast.

* * *

 

The path that leads to Jimin’s house is full of scared stares. People retracts from them the moment they see Mark following Jackson around, sure that he’s some sort of criminal being escorted; which he is, surely. Mark is silent all the way throughout the city, unsurprisingly, despite Jackson’s occasional comments about the civilians’ life, some place or another that changed since the last time he put his feet back in the Island.

When both pass the center and enter an unpaved road, the lights dimmed by the forest getting thickened, the scarce people walking by becoming inexistent, Jackson senses Mark’s unevenness. More than so, he hears the sound of the metallic blade of his sword scratching its hold as if Mark has just moved it.

“Where are we going?”, he hears Mark says, tone rougher than ever before. “We’re already too far of the ship; this was not part of our mutual agreement”. Jackson can already feel the cold blade against his neck as a mystical prelude of something that can happen anytime soon, so he plays it off,

“Are you that concerned about captain Jinyoung’s orders?”

“Admiral”, Mark corrects in half a heartbeat, and Jackson rolls his eyes out of his sight. Admiral, captain, king of all shit; he doesn’t really give a damn. As long as they are wearing navy shields, Jackson only sees them as an equal mass of collective enemy.

“We’re almost there”, Jackson answers, then, pointing to a small, rustic hovel down the trail, barely visible behind all of the bindweed covering its front. Mark says nothing in return, but Jackson can see, from the corner of his eyes, his right hand relaxing its hold on the sword’s grip.

“You know he only cares about his reputation, right?  _ Admiral _ Jinyoung”, Jackson continues, just out of pestering, dripping sarcasm at the title, looking directly at Mark this time. It’s true, as far as he can see it. Behind of that façade of greater good, locking JB up, in the end, got him a greater  _ salary _ . He doesn’t expect Mark to reply. Or, if he does, he doesn’t expect Mark to say what he says next,

“Jinyoung took a lot of shit because of me”.

The surprising part is actually hearing something close to personal coming out of Mark’s mouth. “Did he?”, Jackson asks, uninterested, unfaithful, “How so?”

Mark shrugs, “Let’s say some people were not so keen on having me as a captain in charge”.

“That makes two of us”, Jackson says, “And probably every other men that ever got this position”. They dodge a tree branch as the trail strengthens, and Mark stays behind him as they walk a straight line. Jackson doesn’t like much having someone with a gun  _ and _ a sword walking on his back in silence, so he tries to keep up the conversation,

“Some said I sold JB to the navy to take over the ship”.

Mark’s reply comes fast and sharp like a knife, “Some said I let Jinyoung fuck me to be in his place”.

Jackson’s eyes widen in surprise, and he almost trips over some entranced tree root. He swallows back the  _ did you? _ question that goes all the way to his lips. Possibly Mark wouldn’t be too keen on answering that.

“I can see why”, Jackson says instead, then, shrugging, when they finally get to Jimin’s wooden door. He smirks back at Mark before reaching the door knob and completes: “I would let you fuck me”.

It’s possibly one of the truest jokes Jackson ever made. He walks first to enter and half expects a bullet to his head or a sword crossing his stomach or a punch in his face. None of that ever comes.

* * *

 

“Long time no see, Jackson”, it’s the first thing Jimin says when he enters the door, long before she could even turn to actually see him. “I could say it’s a surprise, but it really isn’t”.

As it seems, time did nothing on Park Jimin. She looks just like he remembers her: a pretty face and a scary sensation of knowledge almost materialized on every one of her facial expressions. Jackson met Jimin when he was seventeen and lost, much more in the metaphorical way of speaking than the actual one; although he  _ was _ lost, indeed, because he had never gone to the Island before.

She was only fourteen years old at the time, and she guided him through the dense forest while speaking to him with a blown white pupil and a deep voice that Jackson never forgot. It gave him nightmares every night for a whole two months. Sometimes, even now, he still dreams about it.

But everything she told him became true, the next day or the next week or the next month, so Jackson held a bond of both gratitude and respect for the young girl. He brought her gifts, from time to time, when the  _ Seven _ stopped by the Island hidden from the navy, and sent her messages from afar from people that knew people that, in a way or another, knew her. Her fame grew quite a while since they first became acquaintances.

Seeing her now is a mixed sensation of meeting an old friend and meeting a respected professional seer. She possibly knows more about him at the present than his long lost mother, more than all of those guys sailing with him day after day, with both things that he told her and things that  _ she _ told him about himself while creeping him out with sudden visions of future.

Jackson smiles wide in response of her greeting,

“I missed your face”, he tells her, and, when she speaks back, she says, looking behind at Mark - whose presence Jackson almost forgot right now, getting back to his past inside of his memories,

“Hello, captain”, she smiles what could be fondly, but it’s only teasing, like she knows something Jackson doesn’t. What’s possible very, very true. Jackson remembers the old prophecy, and the fact that perhaps Mark will kill him.

“Mark”, Mark answers, taking off his hat in salute.

“I know that. It wasn’t a question”, and, before Mark can say anything in return, Jimin goes on, “But tell me, then, what brings you guys here?”


	4. Ignorance is the parent of fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry this chapter took so long! I didn't even proofread it, to be quite honest, so I'm also sorry for any giant mistake (I'll do it soon, I promise).

Jimin places food and a cup of tea on the table in front of them like this is like any other simple social visit. The hovel doesn’t live up to its cursed tale. There’s no skull decoration on the ceiling, no colored fabric covering the furniture, no spider webs, like the kids around enjoy saying to the most scared friends. It’s just a small, worn out house, with no more than two rooms, a bed, a table, and an oven. It’s been like that ever since Jackson can remember.

“Nothing much”, Jackson answers, pulling over a wooden bench near the wall. “Wanted to see you. Don’t know if the word spread ‘til here, but we’ve been held hostage”.

Mark stays standing, and doesn’t seem to be bothered when Jackson very obviously points out at him. It’s a provocation, he knows, but he doesn’t know how to behave any other way; that’s what got him into being a pirate, and possibly also what made Jaebum keep him around: something in his unafraid way of dealing with people.

“I’ve heard”, Jimin says, simply, handing one cup of tea to Mark. “They say it’s a trade”.

“It is”, Jackson sighs, taking a bite of a small bread, “A quite annoying one. Now I have a bodyguard”.

“I don’t work for you”, comes Mark quick interruption, short and sharp like a dagger blade. Jimin laughs; at what, Jackson can’t really tell. There’s so many things he needs to ask her, he has to measure his words the most carefully he can muster. It’s not like they aren’t used to it. After all of those years of distant communication, Jackson became very good at secret codes and anagrams.

“Have you been talking to Bart?”, he questions, then, ignoring Mark’s words or Mark’s presence altogether.

“Yes”, Jimin replies, sitting in front of him. When she doesn’t indicate to elaborate her answer, Jackson digs further,

“How is he?”

“Quite well”, she tilts her head, “Considering the circumstance. He believes he might get better soon”.

Jackson wants to hear more; wants to know if he knows everything that’s going on, if he’s aware of the _Seven_ docked on the Island for a week. Wonder if he knows, even, that Park Jinyoung is no longer captain. If possible, Jackson wants to talk to Bart directly; he would be so much better at this trade thing, Jackson is sure that no doubts would be filling his mind like is filling Jackson’s now. Sometimes, he can’t help but feel that everything is going to be a loud mess and there’s nothing he can do to fix it. The worst of it all is that, as a captain, he can’t even complain about his concerns with someone else.

But then there’s Jimin, and she would listen to him and give the best advices, he’s sure. If it wasn’t for a bloody navy captain following every one of his footsteps with ears ready to hear way too more than he’s supposed to.

“I’m hoping he will, indeed”, Jackson says, at last, “But I know you can’t say anything for him now”, Jimin’s eyes narrow quite adorably when she smiles at that. “So what do you have for me?”

He expects that he’s used to it by now. Jackson has seen it happen a lot of times, but somehow it still surprises him. Perhaps he’s going to dream about it again this night, when the sky gets dark enough for nightmares and insecurities to come out from hiding. He still holds on firmly as Jimin’s pupil gets cloudy as mist upon a river, and she seems out of herself when a grave voice from depths Jackson doesn’t want to meet says,

“To get to one big ocean there’s a lot of different rivers. You might want to take the shortest path, but remember that a river can run dry right in the middle”.

Jackson doesn’t know if it’s a good prevision or not, like happens most of the time when he goes for Jimin’s help. Up until now, he’s still struggling to understand her last vision, from so long ago.

“What should I do, then?”, he tries out, a bit lower and quieter than he was planning, possibly still affected by her.

“Lot of different rivers”, Jimin repeats, and he knows that’s the only answer he’ll get. How can he know the path he’s heading to isn’t the one that’ll run dry? What is running dry even supposed to mean? Never getting JB back? Losing the _Seven_? Dying?

That’s the point when Jimin usually comes back to her real self, after Jackson is done with questions. Or when he still has too many to ask, but she isn’t going to reply in any form that he can understand, so he lets them drop. This time, though, her appearance stays the same; she turns her face from Jackson and points a finger to a place behind him, where Mark is possibly still standing, unmoving,

“The sea of the frozen water will wait for you. Your good reason to get there is here”.

When Jackson turns around to look at him, Mark is frowning. He doesn’t say anything in return, nor doesn’t Jimin say anything more for what seems an infinite time of silence. Suddenly, the thought of having a path to choose and many different offers brings an idea to Jackson’s head. He doesn’t want to waste his time to decipher Mark’s cryptic prophecy, so he worries about his own:

“Could this help me?”, he asks, putting a hand inside of his shirt and pulling out his compass. It could be his answer, couldn’t it? He has an enchanted compass, from the biggest pirate in history, an unique item in the whole sea. The compass that will lead him to whatever place he needs to be, even if he doesn’t know the way to get there.

But instead of saying something, Jimin laughs. A full laughter, that resounds with graveness around the room. “This?”, she questions, an eyebrow raised, a bit of a mocking tone. All of a sudden she’s pointing again to Jackson’s back, to where Mark is. Jackson thinks, for a brief second, that it means that Mark’s presence could be in the way of his luck. Until Jimin’s lips form a smile that makes Jackson feel like he doesn’t really know anything at all in the world, and says,

“You don’t know who he is yet, do you?”

Then she’s back to normal, the gentle gaze back to her features, her pupils back to black. Jackson learned from long ago to not question anything she says when she’s making previsions; most of the time, she doesn’t even remember whatever words came out of her own mouth. Even if he would, Jackson is kind of lost right now. Apparently, he _really_ doesn’t know anything at all in the world. For a start, he doesn’t have a clue about what Jimin is implying.

“Do you guys want another cup of tea?”, Jimin asks, then, perhaps to break the silence of Jackson’s stoic figure, still trying to get a grasp at everything that just happened. Part of him wants to turn back to look at Mark and maybe find some answer, but he’s still glued in his seat like moving is a bad idea altogether.

Mark is still so quiet that even his rhythmical breathing isn’t any indication of his presence in the room. Neither of them replies to Jimin’s offer, so she gets up and serves another cup of tea on her own.

“Here”, she says, then, after a while, “Take this piece of pie to Youngjae”.

Oh, yeah, _that_. Jackson almost forgot. He takes the pie from Jimin’s hands and announces it’s time to leave. It’s past the time, even. With each day they have fewer hours, and Jackson needs to make things happen.

 

* * *

After so many months, the dust and dark started to feel like home. He’s not proud to say that he possibly forgot the face of some of his men, even the name of one or two. What he didn’t forget, though, is the smell of sea water; the breeze of a fresh wind against his face. Most of everything else in life, JB loves to sail. JB has loved it since he was too young, and perhaps too naïve as well, enough to drop his family name and friends to pursuit his dream.

It went fine, for a while. He didn’t mean to become a ship captain until Eric Nam died and he saw himself left with the _Seven_ and a dozen of men who trust their lives on his orders. Besides the three or four ones who started a riot that gave a permanent scar on the small of his back and a reduction of his crew as soon as they were thrown out in the open ocean.

JB learned to like being a pirate captain. It’s stressful, at times, and there’s never a peaceful time, not even when he’s sleeping among his own men. JB learned to be so alert that he wakes up with a drop of water hitting the floor. He still does, now, locked in a cell, whenever rains and there’s a leak on the roof. Besides from that, it has its payoffs. He likes to see how young people grow under the knowledge he has to pass; and, most of it all, he feels flattered by his men’s trust.

There are a few special ones he knows he can rely his whole existence on. That’s what he’s doing, right now, waiting for an opportunity to actually live again. Breathe fresh air. Put his bare feet in the water. Eat whatever he wants to. Get out of this fucking stone cold floor and constant surveillance.

The day Jimin appeared as a visitor after his first week arrested JB knew that he was not left behind. He was very glad he has Jackson, and he’s relieved that his assuredness proved itself right, against all nasty thoughts of doubt any mind brings out in moments of despair. Jimin smiled fondly at him, in her calm and knowing smile that sometimes creeps him out a bit; he’s not one to believe in the supernatural the way Jackson does, but he’s not so convinced that he can’t be wrong at that.

“Hello, Bart”, she had said. For the codename alone JB knew that there was a plan. And a plan is hope, and hope is all he has.

* * *

It’s already darkening when they come back to the ship. Min stops him to complain they are out of food supplies and Mark, surprisingly, says he can arrange one of his men to go with her to the local market the next day. Jackson’s tired, his mind is full of running thoughts he can’t comprehend, and there’s an uneasy feeling of danger following every one of his footsteps. It’s Mark’s trail, he knows, because somehow Jimin made everything harder with her enigmatic comments instead of giving him the peace and confidence he wanted. It’s even a bit unfair, because she’s supposed to be his _friend_.

So when they approach the captain cabin, Jackson motions behind with his hands without looking back, and adds with a drained resignation,

“You can sleep here if you like”. He yawns. The door is left open; he takes off his shirt and sits at the end of the bed to do the same with his boots, and it’s only the sound of the knob turning that indicates that Mark accepted the offer. Until seconds later, when he’s off his boots, looking after some bottle of good run to cloud his concerns, and suddenly hears Mark’s always shockingly deep voice,

“It’s a really good falsification you have there”.

Jackson turns his head, possibly really staring at Mark for the first time since they left Jimin’s house. He frowns, not understanding the meaning behind of those words up following Mark’s gaze and Mark’s hand motioning to his chest, where the compass is dangling from the chain on his neck. His frown deepens. He’s too tired to deal with this shit.

“What?”

That’s when Mark puts his right hand into his marine’s pants pocket and, as he pulls it up to Jackson’s view again, Jackson is speechless. More than speechless. Jackson is completely shocked out of his mind. Which is probably showing on his face in every expression mark he has, because he can _feel_ his mouth gaping with no control howsoever to close it again.

Before he can say something, Mark throws the object he has in hand on Jackson’s bed - no, Jaebum’s bed, he thinks, that Jackson is borrowing just for a while - and Jackson stares at it dumbfounded, back to staring at the exact same one he has hanged on his neck. Next to his tossed shirt on the bed is a compass, of the exact same shape, exact same color, exact same scratch on the left as Jackson’s. He remembers what Jimin says, how Jimin _laughed_ when he mentioned the compass as a hidden light at the end of a tunnel. So he pushes his surprise aside a bit to take it from the bed and look at it closely.

On the underside, where his has an inscription of an almost fading R. T. that he showed Mark before with so much enthusiasm and proud, the one Mark threw at him has only one word:

 _Raymond_.

He’s about to say something when Mark beats him to it,

“He used to really sign everything just as R. T., but, on this particular compass, he just wrote Raymond”. Jackson still can’t say anything to this. He’s secretly hoping that Mark’s kidding with him somehow. “All the rest is really on point; I got surprised when I first saw it. Especially because I couldn’t imagine how anyone got a hold of the real one to make it”.

Jackson looks back at Mark’s face trying to find any trace of lie in there. Any trace of a well-placed trap that Jackson can’t even think of why he would be doing. It makes no sense, Jackson is already at disadvantage here from the start. The only thing he has left that makes him believe in a positive outcome just got shattered to pieces.

So he finally finds his voice to ask the questions he should be asking from the start,

“What…”, no, not really where he is going to, “How did you got this?”

Who can say that Mark isn’t really the one with the fake copy and this is a twisted evil marine plot to doom his self-confidence? Who can say that Mark is telling the truth? He surely looks like it, and he surely looks even somehow hesitant to be doing so, but Jackson is dealing with people like Jinyoung for so long. They can act their way to put people like Jackson in jail.

And Mark just sighs. A sigh long and loud, as he walks slowly to his place on the floor across Jaebum’s bed and sits. Everything about the situation is so weird that Jackson doesn’t stop to over analyze it as it happens. Maybe he can lay his head on his pillow tonight and regret everything. But, right now, a flashlight burns bright inside of his brain and he only thinks about pushing forward,

“What was Jimin talking about today? About not really knowing who you are.”

He doesn’t know what the hell got into him to be doing this, ordering answers of a law representative as if he has any right to do so. He doesn’t know what the hell got into _Mark_ , not shutting him off, not putting him into his place; Jaebum would have done it without a blink of an eye. And Jaebum _has_ a soft spot for Jackson.

Mark just looks at him. Silent, seated on the wooden floor, he seems to consider what answer he should give. Perhaps he’s really going to order Jackson to shut up, remind him that he has a price for his head, like any other outlaw in the Island, and that he has no need to give explanations. But then Mark opens his mouth to speak and says, instead,

“My name is Mark Tuan. I’m Raymond Tuan’s son”.

“ _Raymond Tuan_?”, Jackson almost yells, because that’s certainly impossible, and he definitely heard _some_ word wrong along the way. “ _The_ Raymond Tuan? The pirate?”

Jackson’s and most of any other pirate he knows’ long life inspiration, for once. The owner of the enchanted compass that up until few seconds ago he thought he had it. The first pirate to go West, to defy the navy and never get arrested, to do a countless number of things no one ever did before. _Raymond Tuan_.

“Is there any other?”, Mark asks, an eyebrow almost raised in sarcasm, and is if as Jackson is seeing him in a whole new light. How he should, indeed, since someone simply can’t be a navy captain and the son of the best pirate that ever lived.

“That’s impossible”, Jackson states. He stares at Mark’s face - handsome, authoritative face - and there’s no trace of lie in there. Jackson sits on the bed while trying to retrieve any information he has about Raymond Tuan, “Didn't he die swallowed by a Kraken at the open sea?”

And Mark _laughs_ , then. It’s not the kind of laughter Jackson has when he’s tipsy and telling stupid jokes by the deck with the rest of the crew: loud, obnoxious, and contagious. But is a laughter, showing up sharp teeth, making a sound that indicates that Mark did try to not actually laugh at what Jackson said. It makes the situation even weirder; something twists in Jackson’s stomach that makes him want to say _wow, can you laugh like that again?_

He doesn’t, though, luckily. Mark still has a ghost of a smile on his lips when he speaks:

“Seers, enchanted compasses, Kraken, are you really that gullible?”

“When you live too long in the sea, you learn to expect the unexpected”, Jackson shrugs. It’s true; he didn’t believe in half the things he believes in now when he was younger. Life has proved itself to be surprising by slapping across his face dozens of times. Like now, for instance.

“He didn’t die”, Mark says, finally taking off his coat after so many minutes inside the cabin, “He fell in love with my mother and gave up being a pirate for her sake, when she got pregnant. The death part was just to allow him some peace”.

“Is he still alive?”

Mark shakes his head in a slow, contemplative motion, “My mom died first, when I was still underage”. Jackson doesn’t say anything, not even that he’s sorry. He can’t be sorry; he’s heard similar or worse stories about disrupted families throughout his life. His own life story isn’t pretty; his mother and father are still poor farmers, stabilized somewhere near the Pacific Ocean. Mark, for once, also doesn’t seem to be expecting compassion of any sort as he goes on, “But before that we moved out to a dozen places, got persecuted by the navy”, he vaguely gestures to his marine uniform, somehow ironically, now a pile of clothes on the floor beside him, “ _and_ by pirates, until we finally found a place here to settle and live in peace. Not for free, though. My father made a deal with the Island’s navy for our family’s sake. He would be left alone and get protection if he gave away his ship. There was no ship like my father’s sailing those ocean waters at the time”, Mark stops and shrugs slightly, “He did was the first pirate to sail West”.

Jackson frowns, not because of all of that information about Raymond Tuan. He _knows_ Raymond Tuan. Perhaps not the part about having a family and not actually dying, or even not defying the navy at all instead of setting for a deal to protect his wife and son. But when talking about his ship, Jackson has an insight that burns him with a curiosity that could devour him inside out if he doesn’t ask about it right now. He remembers how the navy fleet is, all blue and imposing not for one ship with red sails in the middle of it. “Are you talking about…?”

“The Red Sky”, Mark answers, not one second later, “ _My_ ship”.

Jackson doesn’t know what to say. Being quite honest, he doesn’t even know why Mark is sharing all of this. Mark _Tuan_. Fuck. It makes sense now why he never presented himself with a surname, and had nothing to do with the fact of seeing Jackson or his crew as lowers than any deserving human being.

He passes a hand through his hair, the fake compass dangling from his neck seeming heavier than it ever was before. If it wasn’t for Jimin, maybe Jackson wouldn’t even believe what he just heard, but he _does_ , now. There’s also a sense of sincerity that drips from Mark’s voice, from the way his body is still and his gaze is stern, and somehow Jackson thinks that, if it wasn’t for Jimin, maybe Mark wouldn’t even _say_ what he just did either. Somehow it looks like they are trapped in a mutual understanding and twisted trust that started from a point that they can’t really precise when.

Jackson opens his mouth and almost says what he _shouldn’t_.

“Why are you in the navy?”

It doesn’t make sense, if he’s really honest with himself. Mark’s father is _Raymond Tuan_ , the biggest, most feared and respected pirate of all time. Mark’s father is every pirate’s aspiration, every pirate’s dream. They all wish to have a name to match his, to even have an epic end like being eaten by a Kraken or fight the devil to return to life and conquer the open sea again. They all wish to be a _legend_. Mark had everything ready just by being born with his name.

Mark shifts in his spot. For an instant, Jackson expects that he’ll say something equally as absurd as being Raymond Tuan’s son: that he isn’t actually a navy captain and is just an evil pirate mastermind in disguise; that he hates being in the navy and is paying for the deal his father made so long ago until he has some opportunity to escape. But, instead, after some time of silence, Mark says,

“My father was the one that taught me that, if I wanted to live on the sea, I should do it the right way”.

They could argue about what is the right way. Jackson can’t agree with the high taxes charged from poor people, the exploration, the inhuman treatment the navy gives to captured outlaws. He’s seen people have close to nothing to eat and, yet, the royal family is living eating the best food the land can offer and wearing the best clothes made by the best cotton confiscated in unfair trades overseas. Jackson swallows everything he wants to say and stares at Mark in silence. He can’t possibly say anything against Raymond Tuan’s words; the man was a pirate, and he changed his whole life for some peaceful years with his family.

Jackson can understand that, in the end of it all.

“It isn’t easy”, Mark speaks, then, surprisingly talkative about his past, as if reading the unsaid questions on Jackson’s unmoved figure, “It wasn’t easy, to begin with. I can’t say my surname around. My crew doesn’t know it”.

That possibly shocked Jackson even more. He’s not sure that his surprise isn’t even showing on his face, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. Mark’s crew doesn’t know that their captain is a pirate’s son? And yet they follow him anyway, without knowing who he is or where he is coming from? And, most of it all, Mark is telling _Jackson_ something his men aren’t aware of?

“How do they…?”

“I’m good enough”, Mark says, shrugging, “I was Admiral Jay Park’s foreman when I was sixteen, reclaimed captaincy of my father’s ship at eighteen. They know that they will be safe as long as they are with me, it doesn’t matter if I was a farmer’s son or came from a foreign land. When we are out on the open sea, what makes a crew follow you is the certainty that you will bring them back to land unharmed”.

“It sounds like a pirate captain’s words”, it’s what comes to Jackson’s mind, and he only realizes that he spoke it out loud when he sees one of Mark’s eyebrow go up. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, though.

“In the end, it’s all captains’ words. The reason why we get our crew on the sea in the first place is what makes us different”.

* * *

Twenty minutes after Jackson is behind closed doors inside of the captain’s cabin with the navy captain, Youngjae thinks it’s safe to get down to the ship’s kitchen. The other royal marines aren’t paying that much attention to them anymore, and not only because it’s darkening and they are feeling restless, but because it’s been two days inside of an unknown ship with a crew that they have to keep a close eye to. It can get tiring, to say the least.

Min, for once, is more attentive than them, and the moment Youngjae does much as step closer to the table, she yells from the other side,

“Food is over for now!”

Youngjae raises both hands in a fake rendition gesture, “It’s me”.

“Oh”, her voice gets quieter until it reaches its normal range, but she doesn’t say she’s sorry. She _never_ says she’s sorry; that’s what makes her someone ideal to their ship, “I do have something for you”. From a corner inside she gets a folded piece of pie, “Jackson brought it from outside. Jimin’s present”.

Min smiles at him, wide and expectantly, and Youngjae can’t help but smile back. If they were anyhow being watched,  that scene certainly could be a bit suspicious, if even to believe they were flirting with each other. She doesn’t stay to see it, though, her attention back to a giant halibut she’s preparing for their meal tomorrow.

Youngjae looks both sides before unfolding the pie and digging his fingers into it. It doesn’t take long until he can feel the leather, so he pushes it out, opens it and stretches the papers inside onto the table. He feels like laughing out loud, but he can’t, so he settles for slamming his fists lightly on the wood in celebration.

He can’t read it yet. Jimin’s cryptography is usually a task, but he got somehow used to it in the time he was putted in charge of understanding her letters. Alongside the text made of symbols and cryptograms, Youngjae can see a map with one red marked _x_. He takes out a clock from his pants’ pocket to check the time:

Less than twenty four hours to go after JB. It’s a bit tough, but he surely can do it. 


	5. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've struggled SO MUCH with this chapter! It still bothers me a little, but I promise the next one will be better. Also, I want to thank each and every lovely comment here or on tumblr, it truly gives me energy to keep going. You're all amazing!

Jackson practically doesn’t sleep that night. He even forgot about Youngjae with Jimin’s letter for a while, because his mind can’t seem to go around any thoughts that aren’t Captain Mark being Captain Mark  _ Tuan _ . He remembers the first time Mark slept in his cabin and the warning Youngjae gave the next morning, when Jackson clearly had said  _ I don’t like him as much as you do _ .

It probably was a lie back then too.

Somehow it bothers Jackson a lot more the fact that he has the son of Raymond Tuan sleeping on the floor by his side than it did when he was merely a navy captain. Possibly Jackson thought, before, that the cold wood suited him right as a bed for being a pompous mariner with a red jacket, as if it distinguished him from the rest of the navy scum. Which it did, actually. It still does, even if he was not the descendant of the most famous pirate Jackson has known of.

One thing that made Jackson slightly happy to take JB’s place back when he was arrested, if he could say so, was the possibility to sleep on an actual bed, as small and hard as it was, rather than a dangling, smelly net alongside snoring pirates. Right now, though, he could trade it for the security of having other people occupying the same space, so he wouldn’t need to open one eye every fifteen minute to see if Mark was really still sleeping.

Jackson  _ is _ afraid now. He’s a disposable outlaw and he knows things that he possibly shouldn’t. Something he was always conscious of not doing: knowing too much. One could have a lot of guns or a small army, but the real dangerous person is a person who  _ knows _ . That’s the one who gets killed first, and Jackson doesn’t want to die anytime soon.

He could say that his fear is unfounded, because Mark doesn’t open his eyes the whole night. On the contrary, if Jackson was stupid enough to try it, he maybe would be able to retrieve the firearm from Mark’s belt before he could wake him up. But fear is something that is never rational, so Jackson feels it. Along with something else, that’s probably  _ desire _ , that’s also never rational either.

Maybe Jackson fears so much because he _wants_ , and what he wants is more than to get out of this Island alive with JB and the whole crew secure in the _Seven_. If he doesn’t have this only task fixed and secured in his mind, he’s also afraid that he can lose track of it in a way that’ll get both things that’s occupying his head to be lost in a irrecoverable way.

He sighs, long and deep, and turns to his left once more. Mark is still sleeping, as if nothing happened and he just didn’t tell a pirate captain that he’s Raymond Tuan’s son. So Jackson tries his best to stay quiet as he leaves the bed and walks to the door, painfully relieved when he closes it behind and no one comes after him. It’s perhaps also a sign that something is different from a few days ago, because Mark would get up to his feet if Jackson did more than move while he slept.

Outside the cabin the dawn is so calm that there’s almost no wind; there’s a few awaken navy mariners standing in guard around the dock, and two of them yawn while Jackson passes by to get to the kitchen, without minding him a second glance. The kitchen, contrary to Jackson’s belief, isn’t empty. There’s a small candle light by the left, indicating that it has been burning all night, and, in a swift, quick motion, Youngjae turns a page and looks up at him,

“Captain”, he breathes out, tension leaving his shoulder. Jackson gets closer and sits beside him. He possibly looks like shit, and appreciates the fact that Youngjae doesn’t mention it. “Early day?”

Jackson shakes his head, “Couldn’t sleep”. He points to the papers Youngjae is retrieving from his lap, where he hid them in a hurry after hearing someone coming, “Is that…?”

Youngjae looks behind them for a second before answering, “Jimin’s, yeah. I’m almost done. See, here’s the prison map”, Youngjae points to the red marked  _ x _ on the paper; his voice barely above a whisper, “here’s Bart. Jimin wrote us the guard shifts and which one’s holding the keys”. Jackson hears some footsteps and the sound of metal sword, so he stops any question he wants to make to turn and wait for one of Mark’s men to enter the kitchen.

He knows that one, greeting a shy good morning.

“Good morning to you too”, Jackson answers, the best welcoming smile he can muster on his lips. He possibly can remember his name if he tries hard enough, “Yugyeom, isn’t it?”

The guy looks surprised, even a bit flattered, if Jackson can say that much, “Yes. I’m here for…”

“Bambam’s breakfast, I presume”. Yugyeom tentatively smiles back at him and Jackson is pleased that he has that effect on people. Not that that works on everyone, or he wouldn’t be scared out of his own cabin this morning. “The sun just got out, so Min must be here in a few. I don’t know if we can feed him the much we had yesterday, though; I did talk to your captain that I need to send a few guys to buy some provisions as soon as possible. Preferably today”.

Yugyeom sits in front of him while Jackson talks, and the part of him that only looked flattered is definitely completely showing now. Jackson can understand why. The boy is a young mariner, recently incorporated in Mark’s crew, and Jackson’s sure that no one in his own ship gives him that much information about anything. Jackson can also see, from the corner of his eyes, that Youngjae has opened his page of inventory. He’s so fucking clever, Jackson could kiss him in happiness.

“Yeah, uhm”, Yugyeom states, obviously not having any opinion on the matter whatsoever, “I’m sure Captain Mark will consider this”.

Jackson’s not really caring for what Yugyeom has to say either. It’s not his objective, it’s not even whom he’s speaking to. He’s positive Youngjae is picking up on that. “How many guys do you think we need to get us some food, Youngjae?”, Jackson asks, then, turning to his temporary foreman.

Youngjae turns some pages around just for effect, “More than one, for sure”, he speaks, then, seeming to consider whatever he has on his memory about the information Jimin has given them, “Maybe two? Me and one other”.

“You’re not going”. Jackson cuts him, sharp and commanding like a true captain. It leaves no space to argue, despite Youngjae evidently frustrated expression. “I need you here”.  _ In case everything goes wrong _ is the sequence that goes unsaid, but passes through Jackson’s mind in a hurry. He needs two of his best men, two of the strongest and smartest and, most of it all, two in which he can  _ trust _ . “Send Namjoon and Jooheon”.

Youngjae nods, a silent approval written on his features. He notes it down while Jackson gets up from the bench as more men begin to enter the kitchen looking after some breakfast. He call already hear Min’s yell from the door telling them to wait.

“And maybe a third person”, Jackson stops to add, because sometimes only strong men are not enough. Sometimes strong men can do stupid decisions based on their courage and confidence that could be avoided with a little of cowardice. So he considers fast about a third name; not someone well-build, but someone intelligent enough to think twice. At a moment as crucial as this, Jackson has to have more than one outcome traced out and foreseen in his mind.  “Call Luhan”.

Youngjae’s eyebrow goes up, “Luhan?”, but his question is left unanswered as Jackson is already leaving.

* * *

Yugyeom doesn’t even strange Youngjae’s absence in his morning shift of looking out for Bambam anymore. What  _ is _ weird, though, is the information Bambam gives him first hand, as soon as he enters the ship’s hold and hands him his breakfast:

“Youngjae didn’t appear at all last night”. Yugyeom frowns. Bambam’s tone isn’t one of concern, in spite of it. He silently raises one eyebrow as he takes a bite of his bread, “And tomorrow is your last day here, right? The day the King’s answer arrives”.

It is, indeed. Tomorrow they will officially receive Bambam’s fate and most likely trade him for JB’s freedom. Or so everyone else thinks. Yugyeom doesn’t know how exactly he ended up so involved in this mess, to begin with, but ever since he became a navy mariner he didn’t feel his heart beat so fast in adrenaline and anticipation. Like he is a part of something bigger. Like he  _ belongs _ .

He nods in contemplation, his eyes sometimes still searching for Captain Mark’s figure to show up at any second to reprehend him with a look of disappointment. Which would be possibly worse than getting arrest, although the latter would be more likely; Yugyeom doubts a little that Mark would waste his time being disappointed in a new, yet not very skillful member of his cluster of loyal followers. 

The word loyal in itself makes something twist inside of Yugyeom’s belly. That’s an adjective he always thought he could apply to himself until Bambam’s charming speeches and alluring jokes barged into his life without invitation. He doesn’t know how to get away now. Worse yet, he doesn’t know if he really  _ wants _ to.

And perhaps he stays quiet for too long, because Bambam’s voice suddenly brings him back to reality:

“Did you hear anything?”

Yugyeom gets closer to the bars, “Youngjae and Jackson were in the kitchen this morning”, he says, not voicing what he thinks right after:  _ And they think I’m stupid _ . “There are three people going out of this ship today: Namjoon, Jooheon, and Luhan”.

“Luhan?”, Bambam asks, but, contrary to Youngjae’s same words, his lips are forming a small smile, “Clever”.

“It’s a bit risky, though, don’t you think?”, Yugyeom states, “I know everything seems calm, but Captain Mark  _ is _ feared for a reason. How do you distract a whole crew of a Navy Captain?”

Bambam shrugs, “The way you distract any person”, he says, and for a second Yugyeom considers that he’s actually  _ dangerous _ , despite his cute façade. Bambam’s devious smile is back the way it did the day before, “You give them booze”.

When Yugyeom doesn’t answer, still a little puzzled, Bambam goes on, “Besides, if it comes down to it, Jackson is the best swordsman I ever met. He’s even better than JB”.

_ If it comes down to it _ surely isn’t something Yugyeom is expecting. He wants things to go nice and smooth, with as less fight as possible, especially because he likes Captain Mark enough to not wish him any harm. Yugyeom wouldn’t be able to hold a pistol now if not for his training and patience. “Jackson doesn’t have his sword, though”, he reasons.

“Oh, but he could disarm someone easily. I wouldn’t sleep in his cabin if I was your captain”.

Yugyeom has to bite his tongue to not ask how the hell Bambam knows so much while trapped in the ship’s hold behind iron bars. In a way he figures he already has the answer.

* * *

“To our captain!”, Jackson raises his mug full of rum and knows that everyone is well aware that he’s talking about JB. The crew of the  _ Seven _ shouts in answer; takes less than an hour until someone starts singing, then dancing, then taking a piss in some bucket around the deck. 

After being foreman for so many years, Jackson learned that the best way to restrain a mutiny, change people’s opinion, and make most deals of alliance is the right amount of alcohol you give to the individuals involved. It’s also a lot more difficult to keep an eye on a bunch of drunken asses than on sober, routine guided men, so Jackson bets his dibs in getting out of two problems at once.

“When we get our captain back”, Jackson yells again, and if there’s something he has it is certainly charisma. He’s in the middle of a circle of dancing, singing pirates, and they are suddenly looking at him as if he’s back to belonging among them instead of commanding the ship, “we can go after good money  _ and _ beautiful women”.

The crew of pirates shouts and whistles in agreement, chanting Jackson’s name. Some of the navy mariners also look as if they would be delighted to be drinking some alcohol, Jackson can notice, smiling and raising a glass in their direction once in a while to make a fake, provocative toast.

Youngjae, on the other hand, is a lot tenser. Jackson eyes him from time to time, briefly wanting to smack him on the back of his head to see if he can at least act a little more normal to avoid raising any suspicion about a misplaced party in the middle of a rescuing plan. Jackson pretends he’s a lot more wasted than he really is when he goes after him and grabs him by his neck, half hugging, half falling into his arms to get close enough to Youngjae’s ear to murmur,

“Are you sure you read Jimin’s letter correctly?”

It’s already night, the sky is dark, and there’s no sign of Namjoon, Jooheon, and Luhan. Captain Mark’s men who accompanied them also didn’t return. Jackson understands Youngjae’s concern, but they have to keep it cool so they don’t risk everybody’s heads at once. Youngjae half hugs him back, holding him by his waist; it steadies Jackson a bit, so perhaps he’s drinking a bit more than he thought he was. He’s possibly so nervous that he didn’t notice.

“I am”, Youngjae answers. His voice is hurried, preoccupied. “There’s no mistaken the prison map. The coordinates and the navy schedule all made sense”.

Jackson trusts him, so he just nods. “Perhaps they’re waiting the dawn to come back. It can be dangerous to return while everyone is awake”. Youngjae removes his hand from Jackson’s waist, assenting with his head while taking a step back from the hold on his neck. When Jackson tumbles a bit to the side with the loss of his support, Youngjae frowns, staring at him with narrowed eyes,

“You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

Jackson laughs. He kisses Youngjae’s cheek on a quick motion, sloppier and wetter than he intended, so he laughs again when he sees Youngjae cleaning his cheek with the back of his hand and a disgusted expression. “A bit, yeah”, he answers, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He waits for the reprehension, because he’s the ship captain, they are being surveilled by the navy, their former captain is still in jail, and the men they sent to get him back are missing for hours. Jackson shouldn’t be really drinking, and, yet again, maybe he should, because he possibly deserves to clean his head a little before he goes insane. The reprehension doesn’t come; instead, Youngjae offers him a small smile of understanding, and that’s all the support Jackson needs right now.

Another man of the crew grabs Jackson by his shoulder to get him back into singing old songs about mermaids; the crew sings out of tune, words slurred, the smell of alcohol as strong as the usual smell of sea air. Jackson sings along, his mind spiraling around saving JB and getting out of the Island alive, so he misses a few words of the lyrics because he can’t concentrate enough. Far on the opposite side of the deck, in front of the captain’s cabin, he feels more than sees Mark on guard, watching them, watching  _ him _ . Jackson doesn’t think twice before turning in his direction,

“Won’t you drink with us, captain?”

The pirates laugh. They probably hear it as a form of  debauchery, a mockery of the navy right on their faces; they probably admire Jackson’s bravery of doing so. The navy mariners, on the other hand, look apprehensive, and some of them even discreetly try to look at the face Mark’s making right now. Jackson can see it, front and clear. He’s as unfazed as always, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Jackson stares at him for a long time, and Mark is as handsome as he was the first day Jackson put his feet on the Island and confronted him, so it’s not really debauchery he’s trying to do, not really mockery either. Jackson would be caught dead before saying this out loud, but maybe he’s  _ flirting _ .

Silence is the only answer he gets, though, after stretched seconds pass by.

“I’ll take that as a no”, Jackson shrugs. His crew laughs yet again, getting back to the loud songs and drinks, and no one seems to be bothered when Jackson leaves the deck, heading to the captain’s cabin. It’s late; it’ll do no good to stay to get pissed enough not to function properly, as much as it’ll do no good to wake up the next day with all the same problems he has today added up some deadly hangover.

Jackson doesn’t close the cabin’s door when he enters. He knows Mark will follow him, like it’s his job to do, so he opens the table’s drawer to look for the expensive rum he knows JB would kill him for taking, and waits for the sound of the door closing before speaking,

“I understand that you don’t drink in front of your crew. JB doesn’t either”. Jackson doesn’t turn his back to look at Mark. He takes out two glasses and fills them, the woody color of the drink stronger than on the cheap ones his crew is drinking outside. When he finally moves in Mark’s direction, he offers one glass while taking a sip of the other, “They’re not here now”.

_ And I know who you are _ , Jackson wants to add, but he doesn’t, because he  _ don’t _ . He could say he knows who his father was, but that would be as much of a lie. Not even in his wildest dreams about Raymond Tuan surviving the sea he would imagine him living a plain life on an island down south with a wife and kid. The point is that Jackson  _ wants _ to know who Mark is, and maybe that’s more dangerous than assuming things; assuming he’s his enemy, assuming he’s supposed to take his distance.

Mark takes the glass from Jackson’s hand and drinks a taste, which is a bit surprising, because all in all Jackson did believe he could turn him down. He thinks of proposing a toast to celebrate the last day of their deal, the final arrival of the King’s answer about JB’s freedom, but this isn’t a thing to actually celebrate. At least not with a navy captain, someone who definitely doesn’t have the same goals in this as Jackson has. So he comments, instead,

“This is your last day with us”, he drinks a bit more, adjusting himself to sit on the edge of the table. He wordlessly motions to the empty chair in front of him and Mark quietly takes the offer to sit on it. Jackson grins provocatively, “Then you can go back to your normal life, your family, if you have any, and Admiral Park Jinyoung”.

He sees Mark’s mouth opening to retort Park Jinyoung’s ranking on a semi-automatic motion until he stops, finally processing Jackson’s words, and smiles, tilting his head to the side. “Well, at least one day you had to get it right”.

Jackson laughs. For a second his mind gets away from the anxiety of having to wait for news from Namjoon, Jooheon, and Luhan. He’s feeling lighter, tipsy, and Mark’s smile is breathtaking. He pushes forward, “Don’t say you’re not going to miss us”.

And there it was again, Mark laughing the way he did the day before when they talked about his father, the sharp canines showing through. Jackson breathes in deep.

“A bunch of smelly and loud pirates?”, Mark says, “I don’t think so”.

Putting on his best face of offense, Jackson grabs the front of his shirt with the hand that’s not holding the glass of rum and sniffs it, “I’m not smelly”, he complains, brows furrowed. So maybe his men weren’t taking regular baths, but how could they? The  _ Seven _ was docked for three days and they couldn’t even step on land. It’s not particularly their fault.

Mark seems to be enjoying Jackson’s indignation, lips yet lifted on an amused smile; the most unguarded Jackson remembers seeing him since they met. Or maybe unguarded isn’t the right word, considering he could still take out his pistol or sword in a blink of an eye to end Jackson’s life, but surely more relaxed. More opened. Drinking rum, talking, and making jokes like a friend.

_ We are not friends _ , echoes in Jackson’s mind, seeming lost in time like a distant memory. He’s not listening to it right now, too blocked by the pull of a strong force that keeps dragging his eyes to Mark’s moving mouth,

“I wasn’t talking about you”, Jackson hears him say, slow and deliberated, drinking one more sip of rum, “You said  _ us _ ”.

Jackson raises one eyebrow again, aware that the smile he offers Mark then is far away from unintentional, “Can I rephrase that?”. He doesn’t wait for an answer he doesn’t really need, “Don’t say you’re not going to miss me”.

It’s such a stupid move. Jackson remembers the prophecy: tinted red,  _ just like your heart _ . His eyes pass by the red navy coat, the golden buttons, and stops right at Mark’s own eyes, staring back at him in a fixed concentration. The amused smile is no longer on his face, not even a hint that it once existed. Time drags by as if it’s stretched, endless, with no hurry to move.

“I’m doing my job”, Mark replies, but it’s not an answer, of course, they both certainly know it. Jackson can’t point out exactly what it even means.  _ It’s probably it, the end of it all _ , he thinks,  _ It’s this when he’ll kill me, put a pistol right into my temple and blow up my brain _ . The moment Jackson’s been waiting in silence, slowly accepting, brought upon through his own big, idiot, uncontrollable mouth. He should be waiting quietly and discreetly for his men to come back, but here he is: asking to die.

“I didn’t say you aren’t”, he hears his own voice come through, lower and smoother than usual, almost contemplative, “But you can’t actually hate pirates, can you?” 

When Mark moves, he doesn’t take the pistol from its hold nor does he say a word in return. He downs the rest of his drink in one motion, gets up from the chair, walks toward the table, and leaves the empty glass beside Jackson’s left thigh. So he stops. Right where he is, facing Jackson, standing in the middle of his open legs. Jackson realizes his own breathing was uneven and erratic this whole time only when it momentarily stops, the second Mark’s long fingers touch the chain of Jackson’s fake compass, brushing his neck in the process, pulling it from inside the shirt. Mark’s eyes study it carefully, like there’s some big mystery in a flawed falsification, until his stare gets up to Jackson’s half-parted lips and he breathes out so heavily that Jackson can  _ hear _ it.

It’s almost automatic that Jackson puts his own glass still with unfinished rum beside Mark’s one, and his unfiltered mind once again forms words that pass through his lips before he can hold them in. They leave in a quiet, tentative murmur,

“Are you struggling with it too?”, and it’s an honest question, because Jackson  _ is _ . For all of these days, ever since he first laid eyes on Mark on that port. It’s an honest question, that asks  _ are you feeling the same as me? _ , since it’s so bad to feel things we shouldn’t alone.

And maybe Mark is, too, maybe Jackson isn’t going to die today for the reasons he thinks he will, because the question is still lingering, barely any time to regret being said, when Mark closes the remaining distance and kisses him. Something awakens inside of Jackson as time finally falls into place; he grabs Mark by his neck, holds him by his waist, the black hat that Mark wears falling on the floor. 

They bump on each other as Jackson gets up from the table in the middle of kissing, biting lips,  _ devouring _ , and they are a mess of limbs when Mark is pushing Jackson’s loose shirt out of his pants, over his shoulders and head. Mark’s back hits the cabin wall, near the door, as they move. The noise he makes from the shock is suppressed by a moan dragged out by Jackson’s kisses on his neck. It feels as if Jackson is out of his mind, maybe because he possibly is. If he would take a time to rationalize this, he would be able to hear perfectly clear Youngjae’s or Jaebum’s voice speaking over as his conscience, asking  _ what the hell do you think you’re doing? _

But he can’t possibly know, can he? Jackson is just going along with the kisses they’re sharing, with Mark’s fingers pushing and demanding his movements. Jackson opens Mark’s imposing, long red coat with such a hurry and lack of tact that he is amazed no button is lost; he doesn’t even bother to take it off, his fingers crawling under Mark’s shirt, down to work faster as possible to remove Mark’s belt - is where his gun is, alongside his sword. Both weapons fall on the floor with a thud, and none of them seem to mind. Jackson shoves one hand into Mark’s pants and swallows his moan with an open mouthed, clumsy kiss, full of sloppy motions, saliva, and desperation.

It’s Mark who takes off his own coat and shirt, probably because it’s suddenly too hot inside of the cabin. Jackson descends the recently exposed body with kisses, lips trailing down inconclusive paths, until he’s kneeled on the floor and replacing his hand with his mouth and tongue. Mark’s hips jerk forward; his long, beautiful fingers now grasping Jackson’s hair so tightly it could hurt if he was paying attention to it. But Jackson is not. The only thing that passes through his mind is that Mark is so gorgeous that he can feel his own pulse beating want, want, want, like a well regulated clock keeping track of his longing. He swallows Mark the deeper he can and he likes how he tastes - the mix of pre-cum with the saltiness of his skin. Everything happens in a frantic reality, in which Jackson doesn’t even stop to wonder if maybe they are being too crazy or too  _ loud _ \- there are two crew of sailors outside that cabin, after all, twice the number of ears. 

Mark pulls him back up, takes his undershirt off, and pushes him through kisses into the small, uncomfortable captain’s bed. It never seemed such a great of a bed before now. JB would cut his head off, if Jackson could be able to care about it at this moment. His mind is only focused on sensations instead, on Mark removing his pants, kissing his chest, descending his hand until it grabs his dick and,  _ oh _ , Jackson arches his back on the mattress because it’s been a long time, he barely remembers when someone that wasn’t himself gave him this particular kind of pleasure.

It’s so unbelievably good that it feels like he’s dreaming. Who knows? He can be desiring Mark for so long that his mind decided to do a practical joke providing him an extremely vivid wet dream. A wet dream that touches him rhythmically, straddles him on the bed with kisses on the prominent vein on his neck, and makes him whine and moan. Jackson takes Mark’s mouth back on his, pulling him by the back of his head into a hungry kiss that wants to get more than Mark’s lips or tongue. Because he does. It’s maybe the only opportunity he has, and he’s not going to waste it not tasting every hidden corner of Mark’s skin. 

Mark uses his own saliva and Jackson’s pre-cum to slide two fingers into him; Jackson wonders for a second how surrendered he must look: spread out on the bed, legs apart, dick hard and throbbing, hips moving to feel more of Mark’s fingers touching his prostate. So he holds Mark’s pulse to stop and steady him, whose brows frown a bit in confusion, before turning on the bed. Mark seems to understand. He grabs Jackson by his waist and pulls him closer until Jackson’s back is fully pressed against Mark’s chest; Jackson feels the heat of his skin, the sweat; he roams his hands through the sides of Mark’s thighs, whatever piece of his upper body he can reach.

Jackson doesn’t mind being fucked as much as he doesn’t mind  _ fucking _ other men, so it crosses his head that he wants to be able to be on the same bed with Mark again, wants to try making him come in his mouth, wants to thrust into him, wants to touch him slowly and carefully until he memorizes each corner of his body. The thought vanishes as soon as Mark finally penetrates him, so Jackson doesn’t reason anything anymore. He falls forward, one hand grabbing, twisting, tousling the sheets, while the other is touching his own dick, a pace that crescents along with Mark’s hips motions, until Mark comes first, holding Jackson still, squeezing his thighs with a force that makes red spots on his skin. Mark comes along with an  _ ah _ , half moan, half surrender, covering Jackson’s back with his body and biting the narrow area of his shoulder blade with those sharp, long teeth Jackson’s been  _ crazy _ about. It makes him come, too, strong and blissful, and he feels his body shaking when it collapses weakly on the bed.

_ The navy blue will be tinted red _ , Jimin had said,  _ just like your heart _ . For the first time, Jackson thinks she might have not meant  _ death _ . He isn’t less scared about it.

* * *

Jackson’s mind is foggy from sleep when he feels the rustle of sheets and Mark’s bodyheat getting away. He opens one eye, barely registering anything that’s happening besides the fact that Mark’s up on his feet, gathering his scattered clothes on the cabin’s floor, putting them back on. Jackson reaches with one hand the waistband of the pants Mark just dressed, pulling him closer to the bed in a slow, lazy motion,

“Where are you going?”, Jackson’s voice is hoarse and unclear, just like he feels: a bit raw, moved by a bunch of uncontrolled desires, “Take off those clothes. Come back here”.

His eyes are heavy, almost closing yet again, driven by a tiredness of two nights in which he barely slept, always on guard, always waking up over the quietest sound. He feels the unconsciousness taking over while his fingers aimless travel upward Mark’s still uncovered, warm belly; Jackson wants to kiss it, but he doesn’t have the strength to move.

“I have to go”, Mark says, but Jackson doesn’t really listen. He doesn’t remember if he let his hand drop from Mark’s body or if Mark removed it. The continuously sway of the ship lulles him back to his dreams, and Jackson doesn’t see anything anymore until the sun is bright up in the sky the next day and Youngjae is desperately knocking on the door.


	6. I try all things, I achieve what I can

Jackson wakes up in an assault, his name being shouted over the door, the incessant knocking getting louder as his sleepiness starts to wear off. His first instinct is to go straight to the door until he realizes he has no clothes on, so he hurries to grab his pants and tousled shirt from the floor and, on a second glance, he sees his fake copy of Mark’s dad’s compass on the bed corner. He puts the neck chain over his head and sighs, Youngjae’s voice still shouting _Jackson, wake the fuck up or I’m going to break this door_ , and he senses that something must be very wrong.

Youngjae is usually focused and preoccupied, but not on this level of urgency. Besides, Jackson knows he might have done something slightly _very_ stupid the night before, and perhaps the reason why Mark left in the middle of the dawn was to expose him to a bloody-thirst pirate crew just within few meters away. Or worse: perhaps he was after a judicial order of death penalty for sodomy or some equal shit, which would be, at the very least, a lot hypocrite.

“Jackson”, Youngjae is yelling again when Jackson opens the door, and seems relieved to finally see him; he doesn’t wait two seconds to announce, “They’re taking Bambam”.

Of all hell that can break loose, that particular cataclysm Jackson is not expecting. His eyes open wide in shock for a quick moment before the anger takes charge and his blood boils with it. He closes the door behind him and practically runs to the deck, where Bambam’s being pushed around now by two navy men, bringing him up from the hold. Jackson hears Youngjae’s footsteps fast following him, and barely registers his voice speaking,

“They came after me for the cell’s key. I said I wasn’t going to give it, then they pointed a fucking pistol at my head”.

Jackson is about to ask who _they_ exactly mean until he sees the mariners all gathered around, pistols in hand waiting for Bambam, and a particularly eye-catching red coat in the middle of them. Jackson _foams_ in rage.

“What the hell is this?”, he shouts, walking towards them, loud and powerful, knowing his voice is grave enough to resound through the ship with the amount of demand he needs. The rendered pirates look immediately more confident, and Mark’s face turn to him. With a simple hand gesture Mark makes a few of his men come forward, and Jackson is _doomed_ when he sees they are holding Jooheon, Namjoon, and Luhan, hands on their back, heads down. He mumbles a low _shit_ under his breath.

“Maybe I should be the one asking that, Captain”, Mark says, the calm voice of someone who has the control of the situation. He stares right into Jackson’s eyes and there’s no sign of anything fleetingly emotional as hurt or disappointment or betrayal; on the contrary, he looks as unperturbed as he did the first day he stepped inside of the _Seven_. It perturbs _Jackson_ instead.

“These three men tried to escape yesterday”, Mark goes on like Jackson doesn’t know exactly what’s happening, doesn’t finally understand why Mark left in the middle of the night. Mark’s next sentence still leaves him shocked, though: “They killed one of my men. And they had this”, Mark opens up a folded piece of paper and shakes it on air for emphasis. Jackson doesn’t need to see it closer to know what this is; his stomach wraps up, “which looks a lot like our prison map, where Im Jaebum is locked in”.

“You can’t take Bambam for this”, Jackson speaks, the most confident he can muster. “That was not the deal”.

“Killing my men was not the deal”, Mark retorts, and Jackson wants to breath out heavily in frustration. He can’t, so he holds it in. “The forger is our prisoner now. Be glad we’re not taking you all.”

Jackson can’t believe he went so far to get JB back only to see the entire path he had planned crumble down in one morning. It feels like a bad poker play where he bets all of his money to lose to an unlikely five of a kind. But if there is something that he mastered in years of piracy is that if he’s going down, he’s going down fighting. So he moves to stay between Bambam and Mark and says, chin up, challenging eyes, his best captain façade,

“If he wasn’t caught by the navy, he isn’t going with the navy”.

The way Mark stares back at him makes him shiver. It’s not of fear; memories of the last night coming in quick flashes through his mind, mostly of sensations, of muffled sounds, of heavy breaths. He couldn’t be faking then, could he?

“You’re not in position to give orders here”, Mark states the obvious; he knows, Jackson knows, everyone on that ship knows. It’s a start for a blown-up. “I’m the representative of the law”.

Jackson hisses, “Fuck your law!”

If it was Park Jinyoung, _Admiral_ , Jackson knows he would be already handcuffed, dragged by the navy, pistol pressed against his back. It happened once, until JB and a few fellow _Seven_ men ambushed them and set Jackson free before he could rot in a smelly jail for years. Maybe Mark will do the same. Maybe Mark won’t because they are not exactly playing their duties by the book. Instead of acting, he threatens,

“I could get you arrested”.

So Jackson pushes his boundaries. He walks forward, in Mark’s direction, and gets so close that he hears some pistols getting cocked by Mark’s crew, just waiting for the word to shoot him down. For a split of a second Jackson sees Mark’s eyes falling from his to his lips, and it’s a bit pleasuring to know that perhaps he isn’t the only one with persistent _and_ pestering memories. Then he says, defiantly low and right into Mark’s face,

“Try me”.

He believes he won’t. He really does, because some irrational part of his brain has a romantic idea that he can’t get arrested by someone with whom he just had sex, the same way that he has no filter whatsoever to yell at his own captain because he believes that JB’s friendship is above his hierarchy. It’s an idiotic belief, and also got him into the worst public punishments he’s ever had.

Apparently, now it gets him in jail.

“Arrest him”, Mark says the words, and his men waste no time in pushing him away from Mark’s personal space, handcuffing him. Jackson gives a humorless laugh that’s cut off with a particular rough hand pressing his head down.

 _Great_ , Jackson thinks, now he fails to free JB, loses Bambam to the navy, and gets arrested. He can’t even see Youngjae’s look of despair, but he imagines it vividly. The _Seven_ is kind of in his hands now, in the living worst case scenario.

* * *

 

Bad isn’t a word that covers what just went on. Youngjae almost wants to follow Jackson to prison to yell at him for letting his anger take control at a time like this. When he sees the navy leaving their ship with Jooheon, Namjoon, Luhan, Bambam, _and_ Jackson with them, all Youngjae feels is despair. As foremaster, the ship is his now unless someone decides to take it over; it would be unlikely, though, because nobody wants to be in his shoes right now. If someone does want to run the _Seven_ , they will probably wait until they are off back on the sea, away from a fully armed navy crew, still destabilized and weakened by every man they just lost.

Youngjae is no natural leader. In fact, he believes he isn’t even someone who can _learn_ to be one. Still, when he turns over to the remaining pirates of the _Seven_ , they all look up at him in expectation of what they should do next.

“Captain”, someone says, and Youngjae takes a while to realizes it’s to _him_ they are talking to, “should we sail the ship?”

Run away would be the best option. They don’t have weapons, they don’t have enough men, Youngjae is not a captain. Leave now, pick up their pieces together, and start anew. Coming to rescue JB perhaps was a nice idea in concept, but they probably miscalculated the risks. Was it worth taking? Losing five men trying to get back one?

“We are not leaving”, Youngjae says, then, because sometimes the most rational thing to do is just not the _right_ one. He can’t leave the best men they have behind, the ones that stuck together to their plan before because they are _loyal_. Youngjae has to get them back. “We only leave this Island with JB, Jackson, Jooheon, Namjoon, Luhan, and Bambam on the ship. Even if we have to burn this place down for it”.

The men yell, some of them smacking their chest in excitement. Youngjae can hear sentences as _finally we’re showing the navy who we are_ , _now that’s what we’re talking about_ , and he feels like he doesn’t suck that much at this being a captain thing, after all. The only problem is that he has no idea of how he’s going to execute his words, practically speaking.

That’s when miracle does happen, and from a hidden corner they hear a voice saying,

"I think I can help.”

Youngjae and the _Seven_ ’s crew turn in the direction of the guy who just said that. He comes out from behind a barrel, hands up in the air, movements still a bit hesitant. Understandably. The hostility in the air is suddenly so thick it could be cut in half with a knife. Youngjae first sees the blue uniform, the navy shield on his sleeve, then looks at his face and can vaguely remember him. The pirates’ fingers close quickly into fists, ready to knock him down; Youngjae raises a hand to make them wait.

“You were the one guarding Bambam, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sir”, the guy answers, and Youngjae is surprised by the respectful vocative. He narrows his eyes at him, hoping his stare alone is already making the question he really wants to: why didn’t he leave with the rest of the navy? “My name is Kim Yugyeom, I was a mariner under Captain’s Mark ship, the _Red Sky_ ”, he actually _bows_ a little to Youngjae in salute, and, if that isn’t shocking enough, he ends with: “I want to be part of your ship”.

Well, Youngjae thinks, eyes wide, that’s new. He can’t see how the day can get any weirder than that.

“Ok”, Youngjae replies, slowly, thinking it through. Some of the _Seven_ ’s men are still bothered, ready to beat him to death in a blink of an eye. Other captains or other circumstances might have led to that. Right now, Youngjae is kind of helpless, “So how do you think you can help us?”

“I can take you to your prisoners”, Yugyeom states, quick and confident. Youngjae can’t say he isn’t still a bit suspicious that this can be a well-planned ploy. To what, he has no idea. It’s not like they have any power of bargain left. Anyway, Jackson was too quick to get all smitten by someone of the navy and ended up in jail. “ _And_ to your weapons”, Yugyeom completes, and that’s what’s possibly the best offer Youngjae can hear.

“Right”, he says, raising one finger in his direction, “We’ll take you up on that deal. The weapons first, the prisoners after. But know that we can’t trust you until we finish this, so keep your eyes open and remember that we outnumber you, and we don’t favor navy mariners”.

Yugyeom nods, accepting the handshake Youngjae offered. Before he could say anything more, Youngjae speaks again, pointing at his belt,

“Also, your weapons stay with me until then”.

An eye for an eye, they say. Youngjae learned from the best.

* * *

           

It’s hard to tell the passage of time when you’re in jail. There’s one small rectangular hole up on the wall some call a window, high enough for him not to be able to see anything. When it’s 10 a.m. the sun gets to the right angle for the sunlight to pass through it and make an equal small, rectangular illumination into the cell; it reaches close to the bars, so Jaebum can’t even feel its warmth if not with the tip of his feet.

That day the sun mark had just reached its punctual place when Jaebum hears some key noises, so he knows it’s few past ten o’clock. He’s used to those noises as well. Since he’s been locked up, a lot of people entered or left the halls or the cells, but it never ceases to be some sort of distraction from the usual boredom, silence or cries for help. This time, the noises are too much, too loud, so Jaebum also knows that someone got arrested. A police officer stops at the cell right in front of him, empty since the other guy, the one who used to sing an annoying song about heaven and salvation, and refused to eat, passed away. It’s not a nice cell to be locked in.

What catch Jaebum’s attention is the blue uniforms of the navy dragging someone right after the police officer opens the cell bars. It’s a navy prisoner; Jaebum gets closer to his own cell bars to try to take a better look. When the door is closed, the navy and the officer left, Jaebum looks straight ahead and can’t believe his eyes.

“I thought you came here to rescue me”, he says, loud enough to be heard, low enough to not be heard _too much_. On the cell in front of him, Wang Jackson gets closer to the bars, grabbing and pulling as if trying to make them break, and sighs,

“Some unexpected things happened”, Jackson answers, and actually hearing his voice makes Jaebum feel _alive_ again. It’s not a crazy hallucination, not this, now, not his whole life of piracy, of friendship, of adventures he went through, of possessions he conquered. He’s been so much time on a tiny cell that his memories had started to sound like lies he just created to feel better.

But they are not. They are here, in front of him, talking to him. Jackson looks skinnier, his hair is blond, his gold earring was took off by the police, but he’s still that piece of connection with a real life away from _cement_. If they were not still in prison, Jaebum may have hugged him.

“Long time no see, captain”, Jackson smiles, then, wide and happy, even in those circumstances. Jaebum can understand; he smiles back, because the familiarity is a bless, seeing a friend’s face is a bless. Jackson bothered him so much during so many years, but hell, did Jaebum miss him now. “I’m sorry our reencounter had to be like this, but I’m sure Youngjae will come out with a much clever way to get us out”.

“What about Bambam?”, Jaebum asks. Jimin has been paying him visits, from time to time, using codenames to try to pass most information she can about his crew plans. The idea was a trade: a forger looked by the King to get him out. He knew the _Seven_ was in the Island, surveyed by the navy. How they came to arrest Jackson is the piece missing from his mental puzzle.

“That’s another problem, he’s with the navy”.

Jaebum is about to demand more details because, apparently, a few years in jail does not take away his habit of being a captain. Key noises suddenly can be heard again, however, so he stops, alerted, waiting for what is about to happen. It’s a lot quieter than Jackson’s entrance, no chain dragging on the floor, not too much ruffle of clothes, no wheel of the food cart. He thinks of perhaps a police officer announcing a visitor, but gets surprised when the footsteps get louder in their direction and a red coat enters his field of vision.

Jaebum doesn’t know this face. His red coat has the navy shield and a ranking symbol of a captain, which is unusual, because all navy wear blue uniforms. It’s someone big, then, maybe the one who got Admiral Jinyoung’s place. He isn’t even in front of them when Jaebum surprisingly hears Jackson shouting,

“What are the charges to keep me here?”

He sounds pissed, brows furrowed, hands grabbing the iron bars so tightly his fingers are turning white. So Jaebum supposes that captain is the responsible for Jackson’s arrest, and he can understand the feeling of anger; he felt something quite similar when then Captain Jinyoung put him in that cell, the irrational urge to reach out his hands and strangle him against the cold metal. The navy captain with the red coat comes dangerously close to the cell door, to _Jackson_ ’s hands, quite too comfortable to stand in front of an enraged pirate. Jaebum admires him a bit for it, because he perhaps wouldn’t have those guts. Jinyoung surely didn’t.

“Insubordination”, Jaebum hears him answer, plain and simple, much less of a provocation than a justification. _Odd_.

“Insubordination?”, Jackson questions, octaves higher, like he’s not afraid of calling a marine officer out. He gives an humorless laugh. “Bambam is _my_ prisoner. If the deal is over, I take him with me; you can’t just kidnap him to the King”. Jackson points an accusatory finger at the captain’s face. “You _know_ that’s wrong”.

“You yelled at me in front of my whole crew, what did you want me to do?”, the navy captain speaks, almost sighing, and _that’s_ when Jaebum realizes something is off. He starts to put the pieces together: the random visit, the assuredness, Jackson’s frustration. If feels like there’s a bigger picture behind all of this that he can’t quite point out yet.

“Also, Jackson”, the navy captain continues, and Jaebum frowns at that. _Jackson_. No surname. Not _filthy pirate_. Definitely off. “I’m not stupid. I understood you were not going to send Bambam to jail the moment I saw that fake compass. Only Bambam would do a work like that, and you wouldn’t turn him down after that gift”.

And Jackson’s lips twist like he’s been caught in headlights and has nothing to say that’s going to save him. Jaebum doesn’t know what exactly that fake compass is or what it has to do with Bambam, but the navy captain apparently does, and is possibly right about it.

“Clever”, Jackson says, tilting his head, “Were you using me, then?”

“Were _you_ using me?”, comes the quick retort, a bit too bare for someone who is obviously in a position of superiority. Jackson’s reply is also fast:

“Not in the way you think”.

It sounds like an exchange of justifications, and it’s _weird_. Jackson is a pirate, an outlaw, facing someone who is supposed to do just what he actually did: keep him in prison. There should be no hard feelings about it.

The navy captain gives a small laugh, then, one arched eyebrow, “Is there different ways to use somebody?”

“C’mon, Mark, you can’t keep me here. I was pissed”, Jackson complains, almost whines, not answering the last accusation as if it didn’t exist whatsoever. Jaebum notices that there’s no “captain” either in Jackson’s sentence.

“It’s not a death penalty”, Mark, whatever is his last name that Jackson doesn’t say, holds one of the iron bars just a bit above of where Jackson’s own hand is. It would be so easy, Jaebum thinks, grabbing his wrist, knocking him against the grids. Jackson doesn’t seem inclined to do it, though, the anger from before dissipated in quiet resignation. He looks at the navy captain with some sort of longing. “I can get you out after the resolution with Bambam is over”.

“I’m not the one who should be released for Bambam. Take JB out”, Jackson points at him, and Mark’s face turn around to look at him for the first time since he came in. Jaebum holds his stare, eyebrow slightly raised as if waiting for someone to finally explain what exactly is going on. Mark diverges his gaze back to Jackson in a silent deny.

“Out of question”, Mark speaks, resolute, and that’s when Jaebum sees all of his authority coming through. “I shouldn’t even release _you_. But if the King’s answer is favorable to trade Im Jaebum for Bambam, I can speak in your behalf because you brought him here. That’s the only offer I can make”.

Jackson breaths out in exasperation. Before he can say anything that’ll be emotional and unpractical, as he usually does when he lets his feelings get the most of him, Jaebum talks instead,

“You should take it”, his grave voice resounds and the corridor breaks in silence. He knows what Jackson is thinking; Jaebum is the captain, and a captain’s order is final. He can’t see Mark’s face from behind, but Jackson looks at him quietly for what it seems forever, then passes one hand through his hair and says,

“I take it”.

Mark nods with his head once, removing his hand from the iron bar it had been gripping, turning to leave. Before he can walk more than two steps, Jackson calls him again,

“Mark”, and, when the navy captain moves to look back at him, he says in an almost apologetic voice, “I didn’t plan it”.

Jaebum doesn’t know if he _wants_ to know what ‘it’ means. Mark goes away without any further words and Jaebum waits until he hears the sound of the door closing behind him, keys banging against the metal, to look back at Jackson, who is sliding against the wall until he sits on the floor, hands against his face to muffle a frustrated groan.

“That was intimate”, Jaebum speaks, slow and punctuated. Jackson just looks at him, the same lost face he had when they found out a traitor on the _Seven_ , a long time ago, which happened to be a friend Jackson was quite fond of, and Jaebum ordered him to take the guy out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Jackson says, but is half-hearted and weak.

“Don’t you?”, Jaebum asks, mockingly, eyebrow raised, “So many men and women around, couldn’t you hold yourself with a navy captain?”

Jackson sighs, covering his face with his hands, and what’s most telling is that he doesn’t _deny_ it. Of course Jaebum imagined it; it hit him as a possibility since the exchanged dialogue between both became clearly too soft, too concessive. _Jaebum_ is Jackson’s captain and friend, and he doesn’t speak to Jackson like that.

“It was an accident”, Jackson’s voice comes out low and defeated, an unnecessary spoken confession.

“Oh, really?”, Jaebum questions, the sarcasm on his words becoming inevitable because Jackson couldn’t be so stupid to not realize what he’s saying, “How so? You mouth accidentally fell on his dick or something?”

Jackson sighs again, exasperated. He looks in _conflict_ , which is new. Jaebum has seen Jackson smitten by other people before; the day of the separation comes, and he gets in a bad humor for two days after, like a spoiled child without his favorite toy of the moment. That’s possibly the first time he seems _pained_ about it, however. He passes his right hand through his hair before answering, “It’s… He’s different”.

“You’re in prison”, Jaebum states, indicating the place, the cold floor, the iron bars, the darkness, “I don’t see much difference”.

“He is, though. He’s nice. I’m stupid enough to yell at him in front of all his crew, in broad daylight”.

In the long years that Jaebum has known Jackson he can tell that yes, he is stupid enough to do something like that, indeed. There’s maybe something else about that navy captain that Jackson is not telling him, he can sense by the carefully chosen words, the long pauses. It’s also a first. Jackson always told him everything before. Jaebum thinks about mentioning it, but decides to give him his time.

“Did anyone find out?”, he questions, instead. Jackson shrugs, still not looking at him in the eye,

“Youngjae?”

“Youngjae is ok”, Jaebum ponders. If there _should_ be someone to find out, Youngjae would be the one he would pick, actually. He’s loyal, nice, and, most importantly, knows how to keep his mouth shut. He’s way better than Jackson on that. “I was wondering how many heads I’d have to chop off to keep yours in place”.

It’s said like a joke, Jaebum’s lip curved up in half of a smile. Jackson finally turns back to look at him, grinning, and deep down they both understand that’s it’s a joke that can be real; a joke that can be a promise.

“Would you do that for me, boss?”, Jackson teases, smile wide, teeth showing.

“I’m too soft on you, apparently”.

Jackson’s laughter reverberates through the prison cell, the corridor, possibly down the hall. It’s nice to hear it. It fills with life a place that felt like death for too long.

“Oh, I know it”, he says, still amused, “It’s just fun to hear you admit it”.

* * *

 

Jackson’s arrest was probably out of the picture Bambam foresaw, but the fuck up of the whole rescuing JB’s plan definitely wasn’t. It’s awkward, now, how Yugyeom is the one with a plan to help a pirate ship escape full of wanted outlaws and killers. Besides the suspicious glances - mostly because of his uniform, he assumes - he feels more welcomed to participate in decisions making on the _Seven_ than he ever did with the navy. Perhaps because the _Seven_ crew, or _Youngjae_ , is in desperate need for any promise of salvation right now, regardless of how it comes.

It doesn't matter. Yugyeom feels the adrenaline, the thrill, the excitement. It’s exactly as Bambam said to him, the day before, “if the rules don’t do you justice, you don’t have to follow them; there’s nothing more liberating than that”. It was also Bambam who told him about JB’s rescuing plan, about the way he met Jackson and the _Seven_ when he was alone, running from the bounty hunters who were after the price put on his head. Bambam had just got caught by one of them, hands tied on the mast, mouth shut with a cloth, when the _Seven_ invaded the ship looking for money. Jackson stopped in front of him a few minutes later, bodies still losing blood laying behind him, _because_ of him, sword blade tinted the same deep, almost metallic red that was spreading through the ship’s hull. Bambam thought, for a second, that that was it. He heard the stories about pirates, how they never leave anyone alive when they conquer a ship. After being caught by bounty hunters he was not so certain in actually living much longer, but maybe fate was trying to take his life way sooner than he expected.

Jackson just stopped, then, tilting his head and scrutinizing Bambam’s face as if he was an intriguing painting in a museum. The noises from the fight resounding on the rest of ship suddenly stopped. Bambam could have said that he saw the cliché movie of his life passing before his eyes, but, in reality, his mind was just blank, repeating time after the time an echo of the same words: _i’m going to die_ , _i’m going to die_ , _i’m going to die_.

“I know you”, Jackson said, suddenly, grave voice that matched his strong features. “You’re the forger, right? The one the King is after”.

Bambam didn’t know if it was better to say the truth or lie. He opted for honesty; sometimes it gets you places or gains you unexpected trust. So he nodded, and said something that came out as a muffed nothing, a few undistinguished sounds. Jackson made a face of realization and got on his knees on a quick motion,

“Oh, sorry”, he said, taking the cloth out of Bambam’s mouth. Bambam opened and closed his pained jaw, trying to adjust to having control again of his movements, and took the time to find it all a bit strange. There was the pirate captain, who just left a track of dead bodies, kneeled in front of him, apologizing, and looking somehow very _likeable_. “Were they taking you to get the reward?”

“Yes”, Bambam said, voice coming out a little strained from disuse. He cleaned his throat, “Bounty hunters”.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why we’re here”. Jackson gestured towards the captain’s cabin on the other side. His men were trashing the place down. “They always have a lot of money”.

Bambam looked up directly at Jackson eyes, still leveled with his because of his kneeled position. He wondered if he should beg for his life. If he should promise anything he could forge, make a fake registration of land somewhere. Then again, they were _pirates_. As much as they could be corruptible by principle, lands or titles were not a goal they usually went after. Bambam stayed in silence, then, waiting for the man in front of him to make the next move first.

Jackson spoke nothing in return for what it seemed a long time of suspense and anticipation. He kept looking at Bambam, although not really _seeing_ him, eyes narrowed as if some deep thoughts were troubling him. When he opened his mouth again, Bambam heard a sincerity he was not expecting,

“I don’t know what I should do with you”. _Let me live_ , Bambam could offer, easy as a slip of a tongue. He kept quiet. “You could give me money, that’s true, but somehow I feel that you’ll be more useful out of the King’s reach. Besides, an enemy of the Kingdom is our friend”. Jackson smiled; a wide, friendly smile, that Bambam couldn’t help but reciprocate. That was basically how he became part of the _Seven_ for the moment being: Jackson explained the need they had to rescue their former captain at the Island and offered him protection in exchange of his help. It was a deal since the beginning, one Jackson made clear that Bambam could deny if he wanted, but he seriously hadn’t had the heart to say no.

Later on, with daily life on the _Seven_ , Bambam still learned that Jackson was some sort of fan of Raymond Tuan, the legendary pirate. He stole a book about him from the captain’s cabin and spent a full night hidden on the ship shed making a falsification of his most interesting possession, a compass, to give to Jackson as a gift of good faith. Just in case, because Bambam was not stupid to trust his well-being into pirates’ hand without some solid bargain. That was what he learned to do all of his life, and he was good at that. It kept him alive so far.

Jackson was so happy and surprised with his gift that he looked more as a small child than a pirate captain. Bambam could easily doubt that he was indeed deadly if it wasn’t for the memories he held from their first meeting. But he got used to it. Got used to the _Seven_ , their crew, their routine, the days they spent singing and dancing and laughing. It was almost like a family, something Bambam didn’t remember having in a long time. When they got closer to the Island, Jackson drank with him one night, hugged him, and called him “my little brother”. Bambam was touched.

“Don’t you worry that I won’t let them take you”, Jackson said, words a bit slurred, but with actual feelings. Bambam could sense all the caring and preoccupation, but the truth was that, among those days being part of the _Seven_ , sailing with them, Bambam realized why Jackson wasn’t really the captain there. He was too _passionate_. It was comfortable, welcoming, but it didn’t feel very safe to just go along with his plan without a backup one.

So that’s Yugyeom, now. Bambam’s backup plan. He knows the entire story, he has an entrance with the navy, and he isn’t afraid to take risks. “In case anything goes wrong”, Bambam had said to him, “and I bet that’s a fifty-fifty chance, can I count on you to rescue me?”

“Yes”, Yugyeom replied, confidently, and from that moment on he knows he made his choice.

* * *

 

The sun is setting when the guards bring them food. Jackson doesn’t really feel hungry. His mind is racing through everything that happened on the last less than twenty four hours, thinking where exactly he went wrong, and all evidences point to Mark Tuan. If he wasn’t inside of his cabin all night, maybe he could have heard the news about Namjoon, Jooheon, and Luhan before the navy on the ship. If he wasn’t interested in Mark, maybe he wasn’t inside of his cabin.

Perhaps the fault could really be on that fake compass Bambam gave him months before. The one that made Mark suspicious, in the first place. Jackson wonders if Mark slept with him because of it, too; if it was a distraction of some sorts. He takes the compass out from his shirt, sighing, aimless passing a finger over it. When Jackson turns it around, just out of boredom, his eyes open wide in shock. Instead of the usual R. T., there’s only one word craved there.

 _Raymond_.

That compass is not his. It’s _Mark’s_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally have Yugyeom going to the right side (ahem) and Jackson and JB being reunited (not in the best of places, but still)! Thank you to everyone who's supporting this story!

**Author's Note:**

> The fic and chapter's titles are quotes from “Moby Dick”, Herman Melville. Feel free to give any comment, critique, or just talk. You can also find me on tumblr: http://nolife-justkpop.tumblr.com.


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